


Learn from your Mistakes

by avacash



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/F, F/M, Identity Reveal, and we're all gonna be wrong, i feel like that's most fics for this fandom, i shouldn't make promises on reddit, idk - Freeform, like that's a shock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 14:57:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17469740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avacash/pseuds/avacash
Summary: Marinette is akumatized, and Chat Noir's identity is revealed through her eyes to Hawk Moth. The clock is ticking, as his endgame draws near.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place a few years after the current events of the show, when the main cast is 17/18 years old. At this point, Hawk Moth has been quite successful, and Fu is no closer to discovering the identity of the masked villain. Alya and Chloe are both in permanent possession of their respective Miraculous, though Nino is still working on a case by case basis.

Across the floor, scattered papers shifted about, all at least partially filled with markings in ink and pencil both, scribbles and drawings and paintings and words. She stepped carefully, so as not to tread upon and smudge the words in particular, scanning the sheets for something, anything, to seize for an advantage. Instead of the blackmail she craved, she saw mostly hats, and a few shoes. Nothing particularly stylish, which in its own way bore a little hilarity, but not enough. Not quite enough. 

Squatting now, she peered into the eyes of the still figures, searching for secrets. At a different angle, the sketches resembled something out of a horror flick, random splotches of black and blue across a sea of white, the floor peeking through beneath jagged, torn edges of the pages. She still held the sketchbook in one hand, or at least its cover, now entirely separated from its former contents. On the inside of the cover, written in fine, red ink, "Marinette Dupain-Cheng".

A creak on the stair brought her eyes back to their casual roll across Marinette's sketches once more, searching for something- 

Yes, there it was. The page she needed. Hidden partially beneath an altered rendition of Ladybug's costume, a smiling, familiar face. Adrien. That boy whose face smiled at her from every angle in this hideous pink room, on whom Marinette bore the most ridiculous crush, pining relentlessly and hopelessly. It would have been sad, if it was not so funny. 

Kneeling, careful not to let her pants touch any of the ink- for who knew if it might stain?- she lifted the page with pinched fingers, a smile spreading across her face (thin and toothless, much like her ego). There, beneath that smile, was a costume. Lovely though the art looked objectively, subjectively speaking, it reeked of desperation and loneliness. This drawing must be a costume, not an outfit, for Adrien would never wear that in real life, particularly not in the context Marinette likely imagined. She turned the page over, and gained confirmation of her suspicions. Chloe's smile grew wider. In mere moments, the tides would turn.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps on the stair below, and a pause, followed by muffled noise, a soft thud, and muddled laughter. Marinette. The smile vanished. Chloe took to the ladder, and found herself on the rooftop, closing the hatch just in time to avoid the wrath of a slighted klutz. The fluttering of papers, followed by another thud, similar to before, brought a slight smirk to her lips. The girl was no doubt in shock at the state of her sketches, with no clue of what was soon to come. 

At the door of the bakery stood Sabrina, red hair dull in the dying light. Having prepared for this, Chloe took a pebble from her pocket, and curled the paper around it, careful not to leave any creases, just weighing it down enough to effectively drop. Holding the scroll horizontal to the ground, she let it fall. The pebble fell out of the scroll partway down, and the paper unfurled, revealing itself to the world, as Sabrina reached up to catch it. 

The sun would set soon, and the day would come to rest. Marinette, however, could not.

* * *

 

Tikki flew around Marinette's room, mouth agape, staring at the destruction. Papers fluttered softly behind her, lifting slightly as she passed, moved by her rush through the air. She wanted to give the girl words of encouragement, peace of mind, a moment of relief, some sign of kindness amid the fury. But, there was nothing she could say, nothing that would restore the scattered work.

"Marinette..." Her voice faded as she heard the girl fall. She whirled around, to see Marinette lying on the ground, staring at the ceiling, one paper stuck to the bottom of her shoe. In worried tones, she cried out, "Marinette! Are you alright?"

Marinette laid still, staring up at perhaps the only surface in the room not covered in the remains of her portfolio. Her face betrayed no anger, no worry, no sadness, just a resigned disbelief. Eyes relaxed, but brows raised to a point of slight tension, mouth set in a firm nonchalant position, nose twitching the way it does before a sneeze, she wore her feelings as one wears suspenders; obviously, but not openly. A moment passed before she spoke. 

Quietly, she wondered, "Who could do this? Who would do this, to me?" A rhetorical question, with two potential answers. At least. 

Tikki wished to disappear into the air, to whisk herself away into tomorrow, when this would all be resolved. The day very nearly done could not end on such a devastating note, not for her, not for this girl who mere minutes ago soared across rooftops, flying despite the weight of the world on her shoulders. She wished for something to say, some collection of words, some perfect phrase, that might make everything better. But, encouragement and kind words could only be seen as a cruel farce in such moments, not as truthful sentiment. What could she say? What could words do to erase this destruction, this demolition, this devastation?

Marinette sat up. Legs flat on the floor, crushing and crumpling pages beneath her trousers, she slumped her shoulders over, reaching forward to find a particular page. Ripped in two, the sketch was ruined. A beautiful idea for a potential change, a variation upon Ladybug that suited her coming of age. A simple jumpsuit no longer, it boasted long wings, delicately designed to be hidden when not in use, but when drawn out, featuring patterns, fractals and crystallized wonders swirling across the page. The suit itself, redesigned to resemble more closely the protective uniforms of the French army, stylized to flatter the form. Hours and hours of laborious drafting, now torn apart.

"This couldn't have been..." Silence implied the names. "She wouldn't. Not even she's this cruel."

Tikki spoke up, just loud enough for Marinette to hear. "I'm so sorry, Marinette. But we need to do damage control before you start looking for somebody to blame."

Marinette turned her head, looking at Tikki with unblinking eyes. Tikki hovered back a bit, hesitating, before Marinette spoke. "You're right. Of course! You're right. I can't get caught up in my own head. I need to fix this." She tried a smile, a little thing, and Tikki relaxed, a smile spreading across the kwami's face as well.

"Good. Don't let the negativity take over, we don't want an akuma just before nightfall! You need some rest." Marinette nodded at Tikki's words, and stood, still clutching the two halves of her Ladybug design, one part in each hand. "Do you want some help?"

"No, Tikki... I can do it myself." Marinette leaned over, speaking to the floor, as she began to pick up each page, one by one, stacking them up against each other, aligning the jagged edges of rips and tears. "Thanks, though."

She located the cover in which the pages were previously held, and placed the pages discovered so far into the fold. At the spine, the remains of the papers, stuck back with staples and glue, left a narrow landscape of the edge of the torn papers. Running her finger along that broken spine, she wondered how it was that someone could have so easily torn away her work. Nearly full, the notebook had contained her best ideas, the finalized sketches of her favorite designs, almost two hundred pages, almost finished. Now, permanently unfinished, and broken. 

A good hour passed, before she had assembled all of the pages, and organized them once more. A few sketches lost, here and there, she wondered what cracks they may have slipped through, and dismissed the thought. A hand drawn portfolio was unnecessary, anyhow- she could scan the images, and touch them up digitally, and it would be much harder for a malicious force to destroy such a thing. Yes, a digital portfolio. Much easier to send out to schools, too, and to potential employers in the future. A compromise, sure, but the security of it would be enough to justify the labor. 

In pajamas, she felt secure again. Her room looked the same as ever, except for the sketchbook in its tragedy on the desk. Not one picture moved, not one pillow fluffed. If she closed her eyes, it felt as though nothing had happened, and everything was the same as it had been in the moment before she had entered her room. 

But she could not close her eyes, for the trepidation of what was to come tomorrow. 

* * *

 

The car glided to a stop, just in front of the school. The door opened, and Adrien scurried out, racing into the building, without even a glance behind. With only a few weeks remaining in the year, each day seemed like one of the last, an almost lost opportunity for something wonderful before a lonely summer. Every summer since he had started attending school had been warm, and beautiful, and very, very long. Months without the constant interaction provided by studies at school meant months without his friends, months without a break, months without the one thing that really gave Adrien a sense of freedom. 

There on the steps stood Nino, the embodiment of said freedom, whose face lit up upon seeing Adrien racing in, glad to join him. Smiling together, they sauntered into the school's courtyard, chatting about nothing, chatting about everything. Somehow, with Nino, conversations presented themselves with ease, never running out of topics to discuss. The world to Nino was an exciting and fascinating playground, rife with experimentation and discovery. Even the dullest of days turned bright by the music of his laughter. The two chattered back and forth, the way they always did, the way they always would, smiling as though no one else was there, but at the same time, welcoming any to join them. 

Upon entering the courtyard, though, their discussion faltered. There, in the middle of the court, everyone stood about, whispering and giggling. Kids from every year, both below and above, gathered around each other, talking in hushed tones about something hidden from Adrien's view. A few faces looked up at Adrien, with varying reactions. A few turned red, and then away; a few started giggling, maintaining strange eye contact; and one shrank back, shuffling away, drowning in what seemed to be secondhand embarrassment. Adrien paused, but Nino kept walking, oblivious to their attention to Adrien, and inserted himself into the crowd. 

A loud and unmistakably Nino guffaw escaped from the huddle, enough to startle Adrien into walking. Cautious with each step, he furrowed his brow a bit more as he stepped closer, as all eyes turned to him. Some wore smiles, some wore frowns, some wore other emotions he could not quite quantify in such a brief moment, as they cast their eyes downward when he met their gaze. They split apart, letting him in to see the object of ridicule, the paper held in Chloe's hand. 

She held his gaze with those narrow eyes of hers, mouth spread into that grin that warranted worry from anyone with a conscience. Her own reputation was one without secrets, and one met with an equal amount of admiration and disdain by the public- she accepted this with pride, puffing out her chest at any opportunity to prove superiority. If anything, she had become worse through the trials meant to improve her character, as she believed herself superior through all of that turmoil. Today, that suppressed morality grew even weaker, as she held out a single piece of paper.

He saw his own face. Younger by several years now, but still his own face. His nose had not been broken yet, at the point when this was drawn, and his hairstyle was neater back then, but he saw himself, smiling in ink from that piece of paper. He focused on the face too much, for too long- the likeness was uncanny. Not hyper realistic, but merely excellently rendered in as few strokes as possible, just enough shading to show the necessary contours. Like looking into a minimalist mirror. 

His eyes broke from that face when he saw the body. In a slight lunge, as though poised to kneel, the familiar pose reminded him of his father's drawings; the perfect angle to show specific detail along the figure. That inkpen rendition of a younger Adrien wore a penciled suit, crafted with inked in finalizations; the embroidery upon the lapel, the cut of the pants, the shape of the cumberbund, and the fall of the sleeves. The buttons were draw off to the side, each one meticulously designed to resemble a ladybug, some taking off, some sleeping, some crawling, all noted to be gilded in gold. Every detail of the design boasted painstaking effort, exact and perfect craftsmanship. He saw nothing that would warrant the response of the laughter growing around him, until he saw the ring. 

On the ink Adrien's right hand, he wore his signet ring, his Miraculous. That detail brought a bit of a smile to his face, which faded fast, as he noticed the left hand. There, he wore another ring, the implication clear. Chloe must have seen the change in his expression, as he glanced up at her face. That malicious smile turned into a seething sneer, as she flipped the paper over, to reveal the kicker. 

Marinette, smiling with teeth apart, eyes shut in happiness, frozen on the page, by her own hand. Her hair down- which, though he had never seen it down before, he knew her rendition must be perfectly accurate- with no ornamentation, rested softly against her bare shoulders, tucked behind her ears. Her ears, too, bore no jewelry, save for her simple earrings, marked by tiny dots of ink on the page. The rest of her, though...

A long gown swept the floor, skirts upon skirts upon skirts hosting a myriad of intensively drawn designs. Closely resembling the fractal-like pattern on the wings of any animal, or on the veins of a leaf, the skirts almost seemed to flutter on the page, as delicate patterns buzzed across its gauzy surface. The skirts crawled up to the bodice, the designs growing tighter and closer at the waistline, until they bled into the stark white of a simple bateau neckline, the sleeves beginning just below her shoulder, and ending with a close fit at her wrists. In her hands, a bouquet hid the potential of a ring- but with the dress alone, they all knew the intent. 

He looked up at Chloe, whose smile conveyed pure glee. A sickening sensation rumbled in his stomach, and he snatched the paper from her outstretched hands. She did not protest- and why should she? The damage was done, everyone had seen Marinette's daydream, in full detail. The knowledge of her crush was nothing new, not even to him, but the physical confirmation of its extent, that was another matter entirely.

As he held the page, glaring at Chloe, unable to formulate a thought, to come up with a sentence that could convey his anger at the situation without embarrassing her beyond the necessary, he heard the click of the door to the courtyard opening. He turned, only thinking of how this person was very nearly late to class, to see Marinette walk in, a timid smile on her oblivious face. For a moment, her even footsteps with their soft sounds echoed, the only noise in the yard. No one breathed, as she approached, they only stared. The tension broke, and immediately, the majority of the crowd hustled off about their business, scurrying to class. A few staggered, lingering for the sake of gossip, but a tense glance from the ever so cheery Nino spurred them on their way. 

She approached cautiously, and her little smile wavered. Frozen, Adrien could not move his hand, or his eyes, as they fixated upon that paper. The poor girl looked at the faces around her, that of her childhood enemy, that unrequited crush, and his best friend, and did not understand what to make of the situation. Then, she saw Adrien's hands, clutching that damning evidence. 

"Adrien?" To his surprise, she did not stutter. Her voice, quiet though it sounded, had strength, resilience, without a tear in her eye. "That's... from my portfolio."

Adrien, still petrified, looked up at her. Blue eyes stared at him, one of them twitching. She broke eye contact, and looked down, reaching into her bag. He watched, as she drew from it a black, leatherbound binder, filled with loose papers. She opened the book, revealing the torn contents. He found himself stepping forward, until she snapped the book shut, without further flair. That smile left her face completely, as she turned towards Chloe.

Marinette opened her mouth to speak, to say something damning. To condemn Chloe in the way that she had been condemned, to let her wallow in a hell of humiliation, to open up the girl's most private secrets and reveal them in full technicolor to the world. But, no words came out. Nothing in her head could push this punishment on to her tormentor, and nothing in the world could erase the thoughts in others' heads. 

And then, everything happened at once. A whirl of laughter bellowed out of Chloe, cruel and loud, joined by the giggles of her cohort, who sat a ways away, filming on her camera. Adrien broke out of his petrified state, and began to speak, but Nino stopped him with an outstretched arm, shaking his head wildly. Marinette ran forward and snatched the paper from Adrien, ripping it even further as she tore it away from him, running away immediately after doing so, not giving anyone a chance to degrade her further. 

Adrien pushed Nino aside, but Marinette raced away, out the door, far before he could reach her. Over his shoulder, he asked, "Nino, where is Alya? Someone needs to go after her!"

Nino shook his head. "She's got that interview for the internship today, she won't be back at school until tomorrow. And yeah, someone should, but definitely not you. You are the last person she wants to talk to right now, man, you gotta step back from this, okay?"

Angrily, Adrien turned around, and yelled, "Chloe, why would you do this? Why?" 

Chloe shrugged, still smiling. 

* * *

 

"Marinette!" 

Tikki's voice rang out as Marinette ran. Past the bakery, past the park, just away, as far away as she could, away from here, anywhere but here. The kwami whizzed about, ignored by the passers by.

"Marinette, stop! Take a moment, and breathe! Let's talk about this!"

Marinette kept running, running, until she reached the bridge. Deserted, now that the workday had just begun, it stood sadly over the still waters, lovely and alone against the background of such a busy city. At the base of the bridge, she sank to her knees, looking out at the water. The gravel beneath her crushed against her trousers, crunching against her kneecaps. 

"Marinette, please, are you okay?" Tikki flew around the girl's head, a few feet away from her face. "Marinette, I know this feels awful, but are you okay?"

"Tikki, enough!" Marinette shouted, an unfamiliar anger rising up on her tongue. "I am not okay! This is not okay, this will not be okay! How can you even ask that?"

"Things like this have happened before, and you've always come out stronger! Your crush was broadcast on national television, and you came out on top, remember? This is going to blow over, but right now, I need you to calm down. Breathe, Marinette, just breathe!"

Marinette stared ahead at her kwami, eyes narrowing in silence.

"Just take a deep breath, and-"

"I'm done."

The wind began to pick up, not too strongly, just enough to create little waves upon the water, and a song in the air. The trees dotted along the sidewalk waved slightly in the breeze, while the lampposts stood ever rigid, a silly contrast. Marinette's hair blew in the wind as well, loose strands fluttering about her face softly.

Tikki lowered the tone of her voice, masked under the steady winds. "You can't quit school, Marinette, you have to graduate if you want to go to school for design, and-"

"No, I'm done." Marinette planted one foot on the gravel, and leaned with both arms on that thigh. "I wanted to go to school for design, so I have worked for years to create a portfolio of work. As the day draws closer that I'll get to share it, I have been preparing, and for what? For it to be ripped from me, literally, and used as a tactic to humiliate me?"

Tikki replied, in earnest, "But that doesn't mean you can't keep persevering! At least as Ladybug, you-"

"I what? I get to be on constant alert that something might go terribly wrong at any time, sacrificing everything and everyone in my life to help strangers? I get to focus on every person in Paris except for myself? And then when I do focus on myself, I get humiliated in front of everyone?" She stood tall, the stains from the gravel apparent on her knees. "I wanted one thing for myself, just one! And I can't have that without it being taken from me so fast? I have worked so hard, and for so long, and I wanted one thing for me and I'm not allowed to have it! How is that fair?"

"It's not!" Tikki, breathless, stuttered out what she could. "It's not fair! But you have to-"

"No, I don't. I can't. A life where I don't get to actually live for myself, ever, isn't a life that will lead to happiness."

"You're not happy?" Tikki looked at Marinette, and for a moment, it seemed as though she saw a stranger.

Marinette reached up, and removed the backings from her ears. She looked down as the earrings fell into her hands like simple jewelry, colorless and meaningless and small. 

"No, I'm not."

* * *

 

The brooch glowed a dark purple, and Nooroo sighed. Moments later, they were one, and the butterflies flew about in excitement, hastily spinning around the room, a blur of white potential. Hawk Moth stood in the center of the chamber, the light of his peculiar window dim, as clouds filled the sky. He saw her, the girl from Adrien's class, the one who so many times before had just escaped his call, who had found the ability to say 'No!' at every turn. She was strong, this one, and would be even stronger when she was his. She stood by the water, staring out at the skyline, her hands clutched in fists, and her face full of conflict. 

The butterfly darkened, and flew towards its prey. The girl would not escape this time. She stood still, pondering something. She never turned, and never saw the akuma, before it hit the paper at her feet. In shock, her hands and eyes both opened wide. 

Inside her head, he felt a rush- or rather, a mess- of emotion. A flood of responsibility hit him like a baseball bat to the groin, while the sorrow and anger boiled up and over, overflowing the whole thing. Unparalleled chaos wrought havoc in this girl's mind, an environment perfect for manipulation. And yet, she fought. 

"Don't fight, I only want to give you what you want."

"I don't want anything except you out of my head, Hawk Moth!" She yelled it across the river, and a couple on a boat glanced up briefly at the sound, only to return to their conversation a moment later. 

"But you want to be..." He searched for the feeling, the one that had first been cast before the rest blossomed into their current state. That need for freedom was it, he knew, but the source was fleeting, hiding just out of his view. "You want..." She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, this one, and she wanted relief, but what was that relief? "You want..."

He saw the image through her eyes, the one she wanted to hide. His son, a groomsman, and her, a bride. It was a lovely little scene, albeit naive. She wanted him, but more than that, she wanted happiness- and drawing that picture, that memory from several years past now, it brought her that brief moment of lovely peace that she so craved. Peace, yes, that was it. 

"You want peace, for everyone, but also for yourself. You want to be selfless, and yet, you wish to be allowed to be selfish." He leaned into it, after hearing no objection. "You wish that you could give yourself the peace that you have tried to give to others. Your kindness has been unrewarded, and you deserve your own time, dear girl."

Silence. _Bravo_ , he thought, _you fight well- but not well enough._  

"Say yes, and I will give you the peace you crave. I will help you sketch out a new and beautiful world. Just say..."

She could not help herself. No one could, when he could see into their mind, and know exactly the words to say. 

"Yes."

* * *

 

The word left her lips before she could do anything, and she felt the weight of his influence overtake her body. There, beside her feet, were the earrings, just out of reach, and the drawing. She knelt, and picked up the drawing, folding it, and tucking it away in her pocket. The earrings, she kicked away, watching them fall almost silently into the water, before he completely took over. 

"Inkslinger, I grant you the power to make anything you pen come to fruition. Let this serve your purposes, use it to create the world you want to live in, and just do one favor for me..."

Before he could say the words, before he could command her to betray herself, she spoke- "Bring you the Miraculous."

"Oh, good, so you already understand. Very well. Good luck, Inkslinger."

She felt herself slip away, completely. The world went black.

* * *

 

The windows went black, dripping wet with sticky ink that oozed through the cracks, sinking into puddles on the floor. Out of the puddles, a figure rose, entirely in black, hair dripping like ink from her head, eyes a bright and startling blue, the only contrast in the disturbing costume. Her skin, black as ink as well, shone in the fluorescent lighting, as she raised one bare arm, pointing it at Chloe. The rest of the class froze, knowing that movement might provoke the villain. Ink pooled at the villain's feet, as her mouth spread into a toothy smile. Ink spilled from her dark lips, staining her teeth.

"Chloe Bourgeois. You have no heart, nothing, and you will never learn." She spoke clearly, despite the liquid flowing with each word. As she talked, the words formed in the air, ink spreading into phrases and things and reality. "You have poisoned the thoughts of everyone you've ever met with your words, so it's my turn to return the favor."

The words, formerly stationary in the air, flew towards Chloe in a flurry. She raised her arms, but the ink flew around them, shoving themselves into her mouth. Thick and viscous, it filled her lungs, black ink now dripping from her mouth and nose, as she stared at the villain, praying for relief that would not come. She could breathe, but only enough to stay conscious, just enough to suffer. Her blonde hair marred by black stains, she sank to the ground as the villain climbed atop a desk. 

"I am Inkslinger. I could go on, but a picture is worth a thousand words, don't you think?"

She flung one hand out, and a spray of ink jettisoned from the tips of her fingers, flowing out into a haphazard painting across the room, splattering onto every surface, curling up into cages around each student. Some few managed to escape, but she seemed unhurried, not bothering to chase after them. 

"And what a pretty picture this is." 

 

(Inkslinger, by ashleyrose)

 

* * *

Adrien paced the hall outside of the classroom, just out of sight of the window, just out of sight of this 'Inkslinger'. He knew it was her- even with her hair down, dripping ink, sopping wet, it was her. Those blue eyes, those blue eyes!

"Plagg, you don't think-"

"That's Marinette? I mean, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner, the girl's an akuma waiting to happen, especially when you're around!"

"Not funny, Plagg. Not today." He took a breath, and shouted, "Claws out!"

The ink leaked under the door, and the figure reformed, just as Chat Noir turned to face her. Her lips spread into another sickening smile, and she hissed, "Ah, my pretty kitty, how nice to see you. Have you seen Adrien Agreste about? I've been meaning to-"

He couldn't listen any more. "Inkslinger, release those students, now!"

She lunged towards him, without further response. Ink rushed at him in a wave, wrapping around him in a quickly tightening circle. He jumped, and flung himself to the courtyard, away from her. The ink fell, lifeless, pooling down onto the courtyard, and she reappeared, walking towards him with an out of place grin that more closely resembled a demented Cheshire Cat than his friend. Staff in hand, he stood his ground.

"Do you think you can run from me? Your fate is written in ink, it's not going to change. I'm not going to try to convince you of this. You know it to be true." She spun, circling him, slipping around on the black courtyard, as though gliding around an ice rink. "You know you cannot defeat me, not without her."

As she spun, her words became real, filling the air. The crushing realization of her words hit him, as the words fell upon him like bricks, heavier than anything he had held before. They pressed upon him with the weight of her intention, and though in his heart, he knew he could defeat her, those words seemed true in that moment. She walked closer, and the words became heavier, so heavy he could no longer bear the burden. Squatting next to him, that smile disappeared, and he saw a more familiar expression, as those blue eyes filled with sorrow, begging for forgiveness behind the mask of the akuma. And that was enough.

The words were ink again, and he broke free, pushing himself out of the bind of mere liquid, and facing her, once more on his feet. She stood, and he watched that smile that was not hers reappear. "Here, kitty kitty!"

She lunged again, but this time, no wave of ink followed. It was just her, just a person, a body, with a recoiled fist, ready to land. He dodged, she turned. He threw, she ducked. Every movement calculated and precise, she never relented. When a punch or kick landed, it landed in liquid, with little resistance and no consequence. Quickly, he realized he was only defending; attacking did nothing but delay the inevitable. When that realization hit, she slammed into him, ink flooding across his body.

"Is that it?" Her voice carried, even through the thick ink surrounding his ears. "You might as well be blind."

And, he was. The words formed a blindfold across his face, and it would not fall away, instead melting onto his skin and eyes, sinking in, forcing itself to be true. A moment passed, before the wetness of the ink faded, leaving behind only the resultant blindness. He struggled, quickly realizing that she had painted binds across his legs and wrists, and wished that Ladybug would come. Inkslinger sank to her knees. She crawled over to Chat Noir, and whispered into his ear, as though she knew what he was thinking: "She's not coming."

The words became real, and he cried out, hoping beyond hope that she would come. She was always there, right when he needed her, and he needed her now. She had to come, she had to come.

* * *

 

Hawk Moth did not speak. How fortuitous, that Chat Noir should present himself so eagerly, so easily, and fall prey so quickly? How was it that this random girl could predict his movements, know his mind so well, that she could control his actions? Where did she learn to fight as his perfect opponent? He had learned long ago, that Luck such as this should never be questioned, only appreciated. Chat Noir writhed beneath the girl's restraints, unable to see the smile on her face, staring upwards at nothing.

His cruelty bled into this girl's heart, freeing her from the constraints of self imposed righteousness. She wore that freedom like she wore the costume; with gleeful eagerness. He watched with that same sense of thrill, the same exhilaration she felt, reveling in that victory, oh so close. Her hand reached forward, towards Chat Noir's hand. Clenched in a fist, fingers digging into the palm of his glove, he resisted. She pried his fingers apart, and despite his tension, wrestled the ring from that finger. "Yes.... Yes!" Hawk Moth shouted in the air, still seeing through the girl's eyes. "Finally, yes! Now, let us see who the cat really is."

The glove faded, shimmering away, as though the black leather were an illusion. Ink dripped on his pale skin, black melting away as the costume disappeared, thread by thread. The suit went first, the boots giving way to simple denim, the bell vanishing atop a pronounced collarbone, and the mask was last to go. The revelry left with it. 

The boy blinked. And he was, he was still just a boy. Big green eyes, his mother's eyes, underneath that mop of yellow hair. No longer ruffled, settling back into its poised neatness, damp with splotches of ink, that blonde was unmistakable. Without the green sclera, the elongated pupils, and without that aggravating smirk, his face, too, was clear, though the ink dripped across his skin, staining his cheeks, slipping down his brow. It was him. It was Adrien. It was his son. 

But, Chat Noir had saved Adrien before, time and time again; Adrien, standing in the background as a villain tried to reach him, only to be held back by Chat Noir. An all too familiar scenario thwarted the thought that Adrien might be this nuisance, this hero, this rebellious thing. No! This must be a lie, it must be, it must! The ink spread further across Adrien's face, as Hawk Moth reeled in disbelief. No, this boy laying on the ground must be a pretender, he must, some crazed fan who wore the same shirt as Adrien had worn this morning, some stalker who knew how to resemble Adrien just so. 

The boy's desperation, though, his narrowing eyes, his stubborn lip, they could not be duplicated. That dramatic resilience, just like his own, bubbled up, as the boy continued to fight, despite having already lost, struggling against his binds with no longer superhuman strength, refusing to lie down and accept the situation. 

* * *

 

Marinette felt the shock radiating through her mind, pulsing through her veins. Hawk Moth did not speak, but she heard his agonizing conflict in her head all the same. The throbbing against her temples pushed away any sense, any fluid, rational thought, as she stared at the boy on the floor. 

Facing her with a mixture of desperation and anger on his petulant face, was Adrien. Her Adrien, the Adrien, the wonderful, beautiful Adrien. And she had his ring in her hand. Chat Noir's ring. Chat Noir. The ink did not replace the black leather, but as her ink dripped upon him, she saw the likeness, and though her mind refused the connection, she knew it to be true. And now, so did Hawk Moth. The thoughts of her own betrayal reverberated through her mind.

The words Hawk Moth had spoken compelled her to take the ring, and she could not fight that compulsion. That much she knew. But he had said nothing of what to do once Chat Noir's identity had been revealed. There was so much to say, so much she needed to know, a thousand thoughts bursting forth in madness, incapable of coherence; chaos, numbing chaos. Adrien, behind the mask; Chat, who held her heart. Both had seen the worst of her today, and both of their opinions of her bore permanent scars. His opinion. Adrien. 

She realized that she had recoiled from him, that the ring had fallen to the ground. A splotch of ink formed around the ring at her command, stealing it from sight, as she leaned forward, staring at the face of the boy she loved. Some selfish part of her immediately felt a wave of relief, thankful that he could not see her face, as he blindly fought to be free. Thankful that Adrien could not see the shame, the confusion, the rage, the sorrow, the humiliation, the contempt, thankful that he remained unaware. She shook off that fleeting feeling momentarily, but that one moment was enough of a break for him.

Adrien burst up, out of the bonds, and blinked rapidly, his vision clearing as her concentration waned. She watched, unable to move, as he stepped away from her, slowly. Hawk Moth's voice rang in her head as sirens might in a saw mill, and she stood, and stepped forward, ready to capture the boy.

"NO!"

She froze.

"Let him go."

Her shoulders slumped, and she glared at Adrien, unable to refuse the command. And what, if anything, could she have said or done instead? The darkness filled her heart, corrupting every thought that managed to bubble to the surface, and every word, every motion, became one of future regret. She watched, therefore, knowing that his escape might leave some room for hope. Knowing that Hawk Moth knew as well as she did, that even without the mask, the boy was still a hero. Adrien, Miraculous or not, was Chat Noir.

"Now-" His voice had deepened, the way voices do when the speaker is suppressing a scream, "Inkslinger..."

She perished the thoughts of Adrien, of Chat Noir, of any other failures. The imminence of success, of completing her goal, consumed her- she must repaint the world, she must find and retain the second Miraculous. She must. 

She smiled. 

"Ladybug."

* * *

 

Master Fu sat in the center of his chamber, lovely music chiming softly, filling the room, Wayzz curled up on the mat beside him. The area smelled of newly cut grass, a quiet scent, fresh, and reminiscent of springtime. However, the air grew damp, pervaded by a darker smell, one more pungent in its resemblance to that of mildew. As that darkness thickened, accompanied by quickly approaching footsteps, Master Fu opened his eyes as Adrien opened the door. 'Opened' did not precisely describe the motion of the door, no; Adrien slammed the door, such that the hinges quivered on the wall. The sound of it woke Wayzz with a start, and the kwami jumped into motion, spinning about in circles in the air, before rushing to the sopping wet boy.

Ink dripped from his hair, long streaks of stains marring the fabric of his shirt and trousers both. Marks like paint leaked from beneath his eyes, but the look in those eyes plagued the entire room, even despite his disheveled appearance. Adrien held up a hand, his hand without a ring.

"No..." Master Fu shook his head.

"I'm so sorry, Master, but I don't know what happened- I was fighting the akuma, and I fell behind. It was like-" Adrien let out a huff in anger, his voice cracking midway through his last word. "It was like every move I made, she predicted, I just-"

"She?" The man stood. "Who was she?"

"The villain? She called herself Inkslinger."

"The girl!"

"A girl from my class, Marinette. Does it matter? Why? Shouldn't we focus on the two more important things, my missing Miraculous, and my missing Ladybug?" Adrien raised his voice. "She wasn't there, and she didn't show up, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do! Tell me!"

Master Fu's face remained still.

Adrien collapsed to his knees, leaning back on his heels. "What am I supposed to do without her?"

Silence stuffed the room, as the CD playing in the background skipped and stopped entirely. Adrien stared at the floor, as Fu stared at the boy. It seemed the child had not yet understood the full weight of the situation- that Hawk Moth was now aware of his identity. There existed a few such great drawbacks to electing a well known face as a superhero; an unknown face might have escaped identification, but Adrien remained as unrecognizable as the Eiffel Tower in all its relative fame. 

Through the open door, a little red figure emerged, just below the last loose hinge on the doorframe, carrying in each hand one little silver circle. Adrien and Master Fu turned to watch, as Tikki dropped the earrings. They hit the ground with disproportionate weight, seeming almost hollow, almost cheap, as they clicked against the floor. 

"Marinette, she's been-" 

"Akumatized. Yes, Tikki, I'm aware." Master Fu raised his eyebrows in caution, and the kwami clamped her mouth shut. "I'm glad Ladybug was able to discard the earrings before the Inkslinger could take them. Tikki, this is Adrien."

Tikki fluttered around Adrien, excitedly whizzing about his head. "Where's Plagg? You're not transformed, where's Plagg?"

Adrien shook his head. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened."

Tikki's eyes widened, lips quivering. The sight would have been adorable, if not for the circumstances. She turned to look at Master Fu, unsure of what to say, without betraying the situation in its full and ghastly state. Much to her surprise, the guardian smiled. "Adrien, are your ears pierced?"

Eyes widening in a panic, Adrien shook his head. "No. I can't. I already lost to her once, I can't risk it again. And I've never even thought about how to use her power, I don't know a thing about it! I can't rush in there as a rookie hero, not when it could mean losing completely to-"

"You must." Master Fu's voice changed, a far more stern tone emerging. "Ladybug is not here. You must, and you know it."

"We have to save Plagg! Adrien, please!" Tikki blurted out the words, before she could stop herself. "You have to!"

Adrien stammered, "But I'm not her!" Stepping away from Tikki and his teacher, he shook his head more furiously. 

Wayzz spoke up, his voice the only calm in the room. "I will help you." The kwami smiled. "We can help you. But you have to decide for yourself: Would you rather watch it all fall apart, never knowing if you could have done something, or would you rather fail, knowing that you tried your best?"

* * *

 

Atop a steeple, a church boasting tall painted windows, and towers with dramatic architectural designs, stood Inkslinger, basking in the radiant sun. Ink had flooded the walls of the ancient construction, creating a pit of darkness in the shape of a religious sanctuary. The light reflected off of the still liquid paint, blue highlights cast upon deepening shadows. 

Adrien watched from blocks away, crouched behind a parked bus. The deserted streets, empty and silent, held little cover for him to hide. Beside him, Master Fu, and their respective kwamis, waiting. 

"Do you know what to say?" Tikki whispered, her high pitched voice strange, especially after becoming so used to Plagg's more nasal tones. "Just, 'spots on'."

He fingered the studs on his earlobes, wincing a little at the tenderness. "I know."

"Wayzz, shell on." Adrien watched, as his teacher once more donned his armor, a tired sadness in his eyes. "Adrien?"

"Tikki..." It felt so odd, saying any other name. "Tikki, spots on."

The sensation of power resonated familiarly in him, with slight yet noticeable differences. Where there had been a cool support in the past, now, there was a warm relief. His head cleared, his eyes opened, and his curiosity began to fade, replaced by a wariness, a sense of neat responsibility filling his heart. Strength welled up inside of him, a well of pure and good intention, of intense perseverance despite anything. He grinned.

"Are you feeling alright, kid?"

"Snug as a bug on a rug."

Master Fu smiled. "Glad to have you back."

* * *

 

Hawk Moth stared at the glass, out of the window, out at the city where his son was somewhere, hiding. His son, Chat Noir. Had the world gone mad?

His own son, thwarting him at every turn. The puns alone were enough to drive a man mad, but the fact of the superiority of the puns defied explanation. Had Adrien always had a flair for wordplay, and how had he never known? The boy could apparently banter with ease on the fly, and yet, at home, he played the part of a simple student, if with a minor rebellious streak. Or rather, a major rebellious streak, as it so seemed upon this revelation. 

Inkslinger felt confident, she felt immeasurable pride. And suddenly, that pride swelled into something bigger- contempt, and mockery. He turned his attention to her vision, and watched the scene unfold, unable to speak.

* * *

 

Marinette watched, incredulous, as the strange figure approached. He had emerged from nowhere, simply appearing in the middle of the road. A humorous sight it was, that stubborn boy, trudging towards her, with a little old man in tow. The boy wore, instead of his usual leather garb, a red suit, the fabric featuring an assortment of black spots, crawling across the outfit like the bugs it was meant to represent. Not exactly her suit, but a similar take on the theme. The little old man, on the other hand, wore a simple outfit of green tinted armor, with a shield painted to resemble a turtle's shell on his arm. Pathetic, they were; facsimiles of heroism, a vain attempt to restore their own hope. 

She jumped down from the tower, landing with a splash at the center of the street. "What is this, now? Some-"

"Marinette." Adrien, in his silly costume, walked towards her still. "Fight him, I know you can. Fight back, and listen to me."

"What, no puns? No clever comeback, no witty introduction? Has the cat got your tongue? Oh, no-" She raised her hand, and the ring floated to the surface of her palm. "I've got your cat."

She could sense the anger broiling inside of the boy, but his eyes portrayed more sadness than frustration. "Marinette." He was within the block now, his voice wavering, but still calm.

"Not Marinette, Inkslinger!" She shouted, and they stopped, just short of the temporarily still pool of ink. A smile drifted onto her face, and she lowered her arm. "Take another step, I dare you."

Adrien turned to glance at the old man, and gave a curt nod, which the old man returned. On cue, the older figure muttered something under his breath, and held his arm toward the sky, angled towards Adrien and her. As he did so, a hexagonal grid appeared, spherical in shape, a shield solidifying around her and him, trapping them together in a small circle. The old man sighed, and sat down, just outside of the cage, peering inside with sorrow in his eyes. It was only then that she recognized him.

"You brought him into this? You brought the-"

Adrien lunged towards her, the yo-yo cutting straight through her body, interrupting her train of thought and sentence both. This time, he was not fighting to prolong the fight, he was not fighting to await his Ladybug- he was fighting to protect the Miraculous, and to save her. Never mind himself, as he no longer guarded what was already given away. No, he had no care for his own safety, only for the safety of the things that actually deserved protection in his mind. Did the boy lack self esteem so much that he could not recognize his worth?

The fighting was useless. When he landed a hit, there were no consequences; when she landed a blow, it was an opportunity for him to get her off balance. Neither one could prevail in a fight where neither side minded the harm. She wondered what he wanted, what he was trying to do. The shield could only last so long- a pointless fight delayed them enough that they might soon enough escape the confines of such a makeshift cage. It was not a permanent solution, so delay, she must.

But as she came to this conclusion, she fell forward, anticipating a throw that did not come. Instead, Adrien cast an arm into the air, yo-yo following suit, and shouting, "Lucky Charm!"

A quill fell from the air, landing in his hands, soft, and light- a mere feather, and nothing more.

"What, are you going to write me a treatise, or perhaps a haiku? This fight is now done. Give me the Miraculous. Accept that you lost." She narrowed her eyes, bowing her head slightly, as she reared back, steadying her stance again. "And I've won."

Adrien focused on the quill, and after a moment, nodded. "I suppose, yeah, you will write something, but not any of that." He glanced up at her. "It's for you, not for me. Think, why were you akumatized? Why are you so full of hate?"

He stepped forward. "What happened?"

She found herself shouting, despite herself. "That doesn't matter now, I can rewrite it all now! What I say becomes real, becomes right!" The words literally poured from her mouth, but he waved them away, and they collapsed to the pavement.

"No, Marinette." He stepped forward. "You can't change what happened. But you can change what will." 

He held out the quill. "Write your own future. Don't let Hawk Moth decide."

She shuffled backwards quickly, until she leaned up against the edge of the shield. Her eyes focused on the outstretched hand, and the bright red quill resting in his palm. "No one is deciding anything but me. Not him, not you, not Chloe, not anyone!" She hissed, "What do you think you are, hero? I stole away your power, and you come back with this? This pale attempt?"

She spat at him, and he turned away. Mockingly, she whined, "What are you supposed to be now, Chat Roux?"

The boy in the suit smiled, and his eyes crinkled up a bit, the way they always did when he smiled genuinely. He started walking forward, as she had nowhere else to go. She readied herself to attack, about to jump, when all of the sudden, he stopped, and held the quill out for her to take. "No, Marinette. I'm not here as Chat Noir, I'm not here as some other version of Ladybug, I'm not here for any of that. None of that matters. The big picture- Hawk Moth, the Miraculous, the world's fate- none of it matters if..."

She stared, squinting at him, the way a kid might, when looking up at the sun. He finished his thought, albeit breathlessly. "I'm Adrien, and I'm only here to help you. Please, let me."

The shield dropped, and she glanced to the side- the old man had vanished at some point. When, she could not know, as he had slipped away unnoticed. Adrien stood right before her, and the ink pooled around the two of them, swirling maddeningly. Miles away, a speechless Hawk Moth pondered the situation, unable to act when it could jeopardize the safety of his own son.

She reached out, and touched the quill. It was soft, just as any feather would be, fragile, and delicate. Taking it into her hands, she held it cautiously, gingerly reconsidering her options. The darkened lens through which she saw the world could not pervert the image before her, not when the creator of that vision held such a distortion in his own sober mind, prioritizing and loving this one boy above anything else. She looked up, and saw that Adrien's hands were still outstretched. 

She did not control her own hands, they moved of their own volition. One reached down, into the depths of a puddle of ink, and withdrew a dry piece of paper, darkened, but still recognizable. Brittle in her hands, it seemed even more fragile than the feather, ready to break in an instant. He was patient, still, and waited, until she placed the sketch in his hands. 

* * *

 

Master Fu watched, Wayzz hovering by his ear, as Adrien talked Marinette down from the ledge. Even in her akumatized state, he could reach the girl. 

"Master, you chose well. But... can these two handle what is to come?"

The akuma landed in the opened case of the yo-yo, and with a flash, the white butterfly flew away, hopefully away from further danger. The ink drained from Marinette's figure, and the girl dropped, as if in a faint. Adrien, still with those cat-like reflexes, caught her, before she hit the ground. She asked a question, and he smiled, and said something silly in response, and she laughed, and laughed, and laughed. The smile on her face conveyed her obvious obliviousness. 

The ring dropped to the pavement, and rolled to safety by Master Fu's feet. He knelt to pick it up, and pocketed it. "I believe that everything will turn out as it should."

"But, Master, she doesn't remember a thing, and he doesn't know the truth. And Hawk Moth now knows-"

"I'm aware, Wayzz." His tone darkened, his voice softer now, not yet but almost a whisper. "I have made worse mistakes in my own past. It is time that we learn from them."

As the world righted itself again, ink evaporating into nothingness, Adrien carried Marinette in his arms. Blissfully unaware of the truth of the identity of the boy beneath the mask, she only saw Chat Noir, her friend, her most important friend, the most important person in her life. She held him close, arms wrapped around his neck, as he took off into the air, to deliver her home, to comfort and safety.

"I was punished for my mistakes, and I punished others still." Master Fu shook his head, and pointed towards the retreating butterfly, now a mere speck of white against a vivid sky. "The mistake is punishment enough in itself. She must work to remedy it."

"Master..."

Adrien and Marinette disappeared over a rooftop, and Master Fu smiled. "This might not have been ideal, but a confrontation is imminent. Perhaps this is for the best." He nodded. "So long as we protect the boy."

"And so long as she can defeat their ultimate villain."

Master Fu laughed, and Wayzz's jaw dropped, and he hovered back a bit. "If she can defeat the villain within herself, she can defeat a man. That much is certain."

* * *

 

Gabriel Agreste sat in the darkness, amid his cluster of silent butterflies.

_I had it. I almost, almost had it._

He could hear echoes from the main house throughout the room, muffled indications that the front door had opened. Adrien was returning from school. 

_No, no! He was out there, destroying my plot, destroying my plan, destroying everything I've worked for, for the both of us!_

Muddled chatter- Natalie was there, too. And a third voice, deep and short, no doubt the bodyguard. The voices grew softer, and another door shut softly, the resultant sound barely audible from the chamber. The butterflies fluttered their wings slightly at each noise, restless, wanting to fly away. So much could he relate to them, their want to just... fly away.

_Adrien... Can it really be him?_

But he had seen it with his own eyes. And he had thwarted himself- he had allowed his known foe to escape, to run free, and to return, to win. How could this be? How could he not know his own son? Had he ever known the boy?

_Chat Noir only appeared when I..._

Did the boy take up the mantle to save his mother? Was this mess a duel between two who wanted to achieve a like goal? A war of butting heads, a misunderstanding between blood? 

_Adrien..._

* * *

 

It was so silly, seeing Chat wearing the Ladybug costume. It was exactly the sort of thing he would do, just the sort of humor that plagued their friendship in the best of ways. And that silly smile on his silly face, and his silly laughter, and his silly words, and... If for nothing else, being Ladybug was worth that silliness. They shared the weight of the world, the two of them; if he could have such remarkable humor, such resilience in the face of everything else, she could wear the mask beside him. It took days like these for her to remember the extent of his strength. The constant reminders of his everyday heroics were enough to make it seem as though the power of the Miraculous was all that mattered, but really, the person underneath provided the true strength of the hero.

He landed on her rooftop, and set her down, helping her stand. "You must be exhausted."

"And so must you." She gasped, and reached out, to brush his hair back. "Your Miraculous-"

"I know, I have seconds left. Could you do me a favor?" She nodded, and her arm dropped back to her side. "Close your eyes." She shut her eyes, and in the resulting darkness, heard him speak once more.

"Whatever it was that made you so upset this morning... please don't let it consume you. You are an incredible artist." A piece of paper then found its way into her palm, and she closed her hand around its corner, listening still. "And an even more incredible person. Please don't forget that." 

Warmth filled her, and then surrounded her, as the boy drew her into an embrace. She felt his breath on her skin, his hands around her. Sinking into it, she hugged him back, squeezing her eyes shut tight. The moment lasted forever, and ended far too soon. He drew away, but the warmth stayed within her. She heard a grunt, a yelp, and a thud on the pavement, and suppressed a giggle. Patient, she listened further, until the footsteps faded into the night. She opened her eyes, and looked out into the dark sky, star filled, without a moon. Taking a moment to herself, she watched the stars for a moment, before turning to the hatch to her room. 

Everything was the same as always, the pictures on the walls, the unmade bed, the pillows strewn about... everything in its place, everything, except for her desk. Beside her computer, there lay her sketchbook, repaired in full by the magic of the Miraculous. Beside it, a little jewelry box, waiting, for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited to add fanart by ashleyrose of Inkslinger. Thank you so much for this beautiful interpretation, I love it!


	2. Chapter 2

The jacket felt cool over Alya's shoulders, lightweight and breezy, yet heavy enough to fall in sharp lines. A darker, umber shade of orange, it may have clashed a little with her otherwise understated outfit, but as a gift from Marinette, the jacket remained an essential piece of her wardrobe for good luck. The girl filled the pockets with little notes of encouragement (and for some reason, a few marbles), tiny boosts of paper confidence before the interview. 

An internship would disrupt her life in the best of ways. Yes, she would have to sacrifice a few other endeavors, but in doing so, she would gain access to an entirely new world. She always imagined herself writing, not on the screen- but, opportunities such as these do not waltz into just anyone's life so easily. As a commendation for her amateur work recording the triumphs of the Miraculous superheroes, a few places around Paris had offered her various incentives to work for them. The TV station, best of all, offered a title, and access, and actual work. 

But an interview, an interview as 'just a formality' still gave her the jitters. For the first time, she realized, others recognized her work, with professionalism, and saw her potential. Of course, Ladybug had always treated her as an equal, with utmost respect, but now, the industry was beginning to see her in such a light as well. Now, the responsibility on her shoulders felt great; the responsibility to prove, both to those she had admired and emulated for years, and to herself, that she could contribute something to the world of journalism. 

"Alya?" An unfamiliar yet smiling face appeared from around the corner of the hall. Alya stood, and tried a smile herself; it felt awkward, but she mustered the confidence to stride forward. "We're ready for you, if you'd like to come in and join us."

Alya nodded, and passed the woman, turning to enter an adjacent room, in which more familiar folks sat around a table, with one empty chair at the end, for her. She pulled back the seat, and sat, unceremoniously, looking around at the screens lining the walls. "What is all of this?"

"Most rooms and halls throughout the building feature a screen or two," answered one of the men across the table, his hands folded in his lap. "That way, we can observe the channels no matter where you are in the building. Helps to keep things on schedule."

Alya nodded. "Could get a bit noisy."

"No speakers, see?" He touched a button on the table, and the screens immediately lit up, each showing a different channel under the station's command, muted.

"Ah."

Nadja, seated closest to Alya, offered up her first question. "So, Alya," She lifted a clipboard, on which Alya assumed her resume was held. "Why did you start the Ladyblog?"

"Well..." She did not have to think, but paused for dramatic effect, judging that they might consider her presence just as much as her words. "I was there the first time she showed up, and from the very beginning, I saw just how amazing she is. No hesitation, just pure heroism. I guess I was inspired, and I wanted to explore that inspiration, to share the influence of Ladybug."

"And do you think you have accomplished that goal?"

"I mean, it's not really so much a goal, as a mission, I guess? I don't get recognized in the street, so I know I'm not a household name like Ladybug, but I think- given my viewership, and the engagement from my audience- that I am boosting the support for Ladybug and Chat Noir, without putting myself in the spotlight." She swallowed, maintaining her cool. "My most popular posts are those which discuss akumas, and avoidance of akumatization. Things like my recent article on meditation, and how to incorporate it into your daily schedule, to lessen the likelihood of being targeted."

"So you believe that you're helping, in your own way, to fight the threat of Hawk Moth?"

"I guess I am, yes. I'm just doing my part."

Alec, another host, with his toothy grin, interrupted- "Do you want to be a journalist, or a hero?"

Alya's mind raced, trying not to think about her acts as Rena Rouge- the feeling of wind rushing through her hair, the kwami tucked away in her bag, the necklace hiding under her shirt... "I want to do what I can to help people. I don't think I'm supposed to be a hero, that's not my thing- but writing, and talking, to inform people of the news, and of how they can take action, that's something I can do, and I can do it well. I might not have as obvious of an influence as Ladybug, but what's important it that I do what I can."

Alec nodded along, grin full and jovial as always. "That's a good answer. Do you see journalism as a calling, then, more than a hobby, or even career?"

"I-" Her words caught in her throat, as every screen in the room turned black. In the middle of the black, a pair of bright blue eyes. Marinette. 

"Is there something wrong?" Nadja turned around, and saw the smile, dripping with black ink, and she stood. "Oh, another akuma. Excuse me one moment, Alya."

She walked over to door, where a telephone hung from the wall. Lifting the receiver to her ear, she pressed a combination of numbers, and Alya heard a soft series of 'thumps' following. "What was that?"

"Lockdown." Nadja hung up the receiver, and returned to her seat. "We've had a problem in the past, with akumatized villains coming to the station, and... well, it's a fairly new policy, but one that's long overdue. As a bonus, we won't be able to leave, so we can't be targeted. Don't worry, you're safe her."

"But she's not!" Alya stood, pointing at the screen. "That's my friend, and I have to help her."

Alec chuckled. "Don't worry. Ladybug will help her, you know that better than anyone. It's admirable that you want to be there for her, but right now this is the safest place for you. Now, where were we?"

"Wait, what's happening? Look!" Alya sat down, nodding towards the screens. "Who is that?"

The others at the table turned, audible gasps sounding as they did. The helicopter's cameraman zoomed in on the scene, as another pair of figures sauntered in. A little old man, wearing Nino's Miraculous- she knew that there was another holder, as Ladybug had vaguely explained his apparent existence. Though Alya had long since earned the time to bond with Trixx, Nino had in comparison few moments to similarly bond with Wayzz, patiently waiting for the day when he would be granted full access to his Miraculous. This man, though, seemed incredibly familiar with the turtle Miraculous, wearing the costume as one might wear their favorite hat, or a well worn pair of jeans, comfortable. Beside that man, a boy, who seemed frightened of and yet somehow emboldened by his own appearance.

"No way." Alya whispered. "No way!"

Unmistakably, Chat Noir in the guise of Ladybug walked down the empty street. Blonde hair neater than usual, with flecks of splattered ink staining a lock here and there, she guessed that this was not the first confrontation between the akumatized, ink soaked Marinette, and the Miraculous duo. But where was Ladybug, and why was _he_ assuming her power? A million questions and potential answers raced through Alya's mind, but she batted them away, trying to focus on the action.

Eyes fixed on the screen, it took a moment for Alya to register that someone had spoken her name. "Sorry, what?"

"Did your being akumatized have an effect on your sense of responsibility towards those who have been similarly targeted?"

For a moment, she was thrown off completely. Some days, forgetting just happened, and others, it was a chore. The day she had lost her temper, having been so caught up in the potential discovery of Ladybug's identity that she lost control, and nearly betrayed her hero. Ladybug herself had since encouraged her time and time again to let it go, that it was not her fault; but Alya always regretted the incident, nonetheless. And how could she not?

"Alya?" Nadja's frown deepened to concern.

"Right, yes, sorry." Alya offered a dim smile, trying to avoid looking at the screens, where her best friend was entangled in a nationally televised confrontation. "I see them as victims, not as villains. And I think that's an important perspective, recognizing the lack of willpower once the person is taken over by Hawk Moth. Understanding that they become... they lose the ability to be themselves. They're not puppets, but they are something close. I was akumatized, yes, but I've left that behind me, and I've learned from my mistakes. I want to do everything I can to make sure..."

She lost her train of thought for a moment, as Chat in Ladybug's clothing landed a particularly hard blow. After a second, she shook her head, and shut her eyes, and blurted out, "To make sure that no one else gets hurt! Especially not my friends. And the people I love. My best friend is-" She dropped her head, and bit her lip. Her cheeks felt red hot, and she wished to disappear into the floor.

"Alya..." A moment passed, a gasp, and a few noises of confusion, then the sound of a chair's legs rubbing against the floor as someone adjusted their seat. "Alya, look up!"

Opening her eyes, Alya saw the image on the screen. Marinette, just Marinette, in the arms of a hero, smiling, maybe even laughing. The sight made her wince. "It's not a pretty thing, the erasure of the effects of the akuma... the whole world remembers who you were for that moment, and everything you did, and you have to live without that memory, only knowing that for that moment..."

She trailed off, and they leaned in, expectantly. Begrudging her own words, she finished: "For that moment, you were terrible."

* * *

 

Marinette held the box in her hands, pacing across her room, mouth scrunched up, and brow furrowed. What would Tikki say? Disappointment would abound, no doubt, perhaps even a brief lecture on responsibility. The presence of the little box meant that Master Fu, and perhaps even Chat Noir in some limited, uninformed capacity, had decided that she was still worthy of retaining the Miraculous; but had they consulted Tikki? In all likelihood, yes, they had- but did that mean that Tikki had agreed, happily? Or begrudgingly? That Tikki would still want her as Ladybug? What had Tikki seen from Marinette, and what could she do now to apologize?

Hesitating no longer, she stopped pacing, and opened the box. Gingerly, she placed the earrings in her ears- she realized how naked she had felt without them- and looked about expectantly for Tikki. After a moment, the kwami appeared, smiling.

"Marinette!"

"Tikki..." Marinette lifted her hands, cupping them in the air, and Tikki rested upon her palms. "Tikki, I'm so sorry I blew up at you like that."

Tikki's smile faded a little, into a look of pity. Marinette continued. "I shouldn't have gotten so angry, you had nothing to do with anything that happened, and you were trying to help me. I'm so sorry I caused all of this."

"Marinette..." Tikki spoke up, quiet, and pensive. "I'm sorry too."

"What?" Marinette almost shouted, eyes flaring wide. "Why are  _ you _ sorry?

Tikki nodded. "I shouldn't have tried to fix the issue so suddenly, trying to help you move forward prematurely. You needed time to process things, especially since you were working on such little sleep with Ladybug duty lately, and I wasn't giving you that time."

"I shouldn't have needed it, though, I overreacted!"

"You're human, you're allowed to overreact, that's just... reacting! You've been under so much pressure, and I didn't recognize that it was getting to you so strongly." Tikki took in a deep breath. "I'm so sorry."

Marinette fought the urge to laugh. "As Ladybug, I'm supposed to be better than that!"

"Even when you're not in the mask, you're always Ladybug, but more than that, you're always Marinette, and you're always amazing. You don't have to be perfect, and I made you feel like you weren't good enough. And that's my fault, not yours, setting perceived unrealistic expectations." Tikki flew upwards, closer to Marinette's face, and Marinette stumbled back a pace. "You have exceeded everybody's expectations, in every way, and I'm sorry I ever made you feel otherwise. You're wonderful, Marinette, and I never want to be apart from you again."

"Even after the things I said?" Marinette slumped, down onto her bed. "Even after... whatever I did while I was akumatized?"

Tikki flew to sit next to her. "Of course. You're Marinette! You aren't the creature Hawk Moth tried to make you. Do you know what happened, at the end?"

Marinette shook her head. 

"You gave Chat Noir the akumatized object. The drawing." Marinette looked up, mouth slightly agape. "You handed it to him. Hawk Moth couldn't fully convert you- even akumatized, you still retained some part of yourself, that strong moral compass that guides you so well as Ladybug. You gave away the evil corrupting you, despite its influence. You don't even remember it, but you saved the day, even as the most evil version of yourself."

"I..." She swallowed, comprehending the potential meanings behind this discovery. "I did?"

"You did." Tikki smiled up at Marinette. "And no one else."

Marinette thought for a moment, and offered back a tentative smile in return. Tikki's smile trembled a bit, as though she were about to cry. "Tikki, what's wrong?"

"There are..." The kwami paused, trying to think of a better way to phrase her thought. "There are a few things we need to talk about, though. In the morning, after a good night of rest."

* * *

 

Trixx flew in circles around Alya's head, chattering away. "You were amazing in there! Even when you got flustered, you found a way to spin the situation to your favor! Wow, Alya, that was incredible! So impressive! Amazing!"

Alya, however, frowned. Walking down a deserted alleyway, heading home, she spoke her thoughts aloud. "The one day I'm not there for her, and the girl gets akumatized... something awful must have happened." She shook her head.

"Oh, don't think about that right now! It's too late to be thinking about sad things, let's think about happy things! Like your internship!" Alya smiled. "There we go!"

"I guess you're right, but, it's hard to be happy for myself when I'm worried about her." 

"Alya?" Trixx shrieked, and stuffed herself into a pocket of Alya's jacket. "Alya, is that you?"

Alya stopped walking. "Who's there?"

From behind a dumpster, Adrien emerged, waving with that awkward wave of his. Moments like these confused Alya; the boy was just as awkward as Marinette, if not more so in certain instances, and yet the girl was unable to see that nature for herself. A big grin filled her face, despite herself. Adrien spoke softly, in a tone of voice that would have been muffled had there been any traffic, but tonight, the streets were empty. "It's me, Adrien. Who were you talking to?"

"No one!" Alya laughed a little, at herself. "Nah, I was just talking to myself. Got a lot to think about, you know? It helps."

"Right. Nice jacket, by the way." He half jogged up to walk beside her, catching up hastily. "How did the interview go?"

"Nino told you? That boy cannot keep a secret..." She smiled.

"I'm assuming it went well?"

"They said I should come in next Monday, and we'll work out a schedule."

"That's great news! Congratulations!" He beamed at her, and she suppressed a laugh. Even his smile was dorky.

"I'm surprised you're smiling so much. What happened at school today?" His expression darkened, instantly, and she frowned. "Adrien?"

"So you saw the news."

"Yeah."

"Yeah..."

For a little while, the pair walked in silence. At the end of the alley, they turned the same direction, and eventually reached the edge of the block. Adrien broke the silence. "She really needs you right now, Alya."

"I figured."

"No..." He shook his head, and raised a hand, pressing it to his forehead, messing up his hair. "Chloe."

"Chloe." She stated the name in a matter-of-fact, manner, and grimaced. 

"She tore up a notebook, it seems, or sketchbook, and-"

"Marinette's portfolio? Oh hell no." She shook her head wildly, tufts of hair jumping out from behind her ears. 

"That's not the worst of it."

"It's not?"

Adrien stopped walking, and turned to look at Alya. "She found a sketch of a wedding dress. And a tux."

Alya smacked herself in the face, and groaned loudly. Adrien took a step back. "Of course she did! She would, wouldn't she!"

Her reaction nearly brought the smile back to Adrien's face. "I mean, I always knew-"

"That Marinette's head over heels for you? That the poor girl's desperately in-" She realized she was shouting, and clamped her mouth shut.

To her surprise, Adrien chuckled. "Well, yes, that too, but I was going to say that I always knew she was talented. She's got an eye for design, and honestly, she's got a great eye in general. Her picture of me was spot on- it was like looking in a, uh, half rendered pencil mirror."

Taken aback, Alya stumbled over her words. "I guess- I- huh. Well. Okay. That wasn't the reaction I was expecting."

"What were you expecting? Surprise? Offense? Laughter?" Adrien shrugged. "Marinette's one of my closest friends. And I'd have to be an idiot not to treasure her friendship. And I'd have to be blind not to see her for who she is, and how she feels about me."

"And you're okay with that." 

"No." Alya's eyes opened wide, and it became Adrien's turn to stumble. "No, no, wait! That's not what I meant! Not what I meant at all! I mean, I meant that she's... she's not happy. She's upset. And she's embarrassed. And I don't want her to feel that way. She's my friend, and I don't want her to hurt." Alya almost interjected, but Adrien continued. "Really, it's because of me that she got hurt today."

"You think this is your fault?" Alya huffed, and crossed her arms. "Not even. She's insecure in her feelings- she's insecure about a lot of things. But that's not because of you, it's something she's gotta work on. The girl's a mess, and it was bound to happen sooner or later. I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. But it sure as heck isn't your fault."

Adrien looked up at her, puzzled. "You're not mad at me?"

Alya threw an arm over Adrien's shoulder, and pulled him close. Surprised, he went along with it, walking in sync with her. "She's not mad either. She's not upset because of you, she's upset because something she worked on for a long time was destroyed, and because a piece of it was taken out of context, and used to humiliate her. At least, that's what I would assume, knowing her. You'd be surprised- she's the sort of girl that holds grudges, yeah, but at the same time, she gets caught up in her own head more than anything else. Don't worry."

Adrien smiled, and Alya continued. "I'll talk to her, and yeah, everything is going to be fine. I wouldn't recommend chatting her up any time soon, though, lest she get the wrong idea, or worse, get akumatized again." He looked at her, shocked, and she retreated her arms, raising her hands in defense. "Kidding! I'm kidding. Too soon to joke about it, I guess?"

"Alya..." Adrien shook his head, and let out a short chuckle. "You know, I didn't expect you to be the person to cheer me up today."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Adrien hesitated, and after a moment, asked, "Could you do me a favor?"

"Depends on what it is."

"Could you walk me home?"

"Sure thing."

The sun had set, and night rose around them, the soft scent of a sky almost ready to rain filling the air. Sporadically placed streetlamps light their way, casting elongated shadows across the pavement, and along the walls of the shopfronts. Far in the distance, they heard the groans and mumbles of approaching thunder.

"Alya, can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure thing. But if you already told Nino, then I probably already know."

Adrien flushed, glad to be hidden at least mostly by the dark of the evening. "He doesn't know."

"Well, then, let's hear it."

They walked a bit further, matching footsteps, as Alya patiently waited for Adrien to muster up a little courage. "I'm in love with somebody else."

"What?" Alya slowed a bit, eyes widening. "Who?"

Adrien stopped, and glanced up at the sky. The smile on his face grew soft, the look in his eyes sweet. "Ladybug."

"Really."

"What?"

"You're pining after a superhero, while my best friend is actually here in the real world?"

"I know." He sighed. "I can't explain it to you, but, she's just... wonderful."

"Okay, just a reality check." Alya chuckled. "Don't worry, I won't tell her."

Adrien nodded. "I just really wanted to tell somebody. I know it sounds silly, but..." 

"Yes, it does sound silly. Completely ridiculous." Alya lowered her voice. "But that doesn't make your feelings any less legitimate."

"I really do think I love her." Alya's face froze, as Adrien said, "She's saved me more times than even you know. Her compassion, her heroism, her brilliance... I love her, I really do." The words poured from him freely, as he finally spoke them aloud. 

"I got no advice for you on that front. I'll put in a good word for you, but..." Alya smirked. "I'm a little biased."

Adrien let out a deep breath, as though he'd been holding it for a while, and looked back down at Alya. "I get it. But you get it, right?"

"Yeah." Alya gestured forward. "Looks like we're here. Do you want me to walk you to the door?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks, Alya. For everything." Adrien offered a half wave, and turned, to walk away, only to turn back a moment later. "You think I'm crazy, being in love with Ladybug, someone I barely know, don't you."

"Well yeah." Alya shrugged. "But I'm crazy too, because the person I love most is a sack of marbles spilled all over the damn place. You've got your elusive Ladybug, and I've got my mess of a Marinette. I'll deal with mine, and you deal with yours. And if you ever need to talk to somebody, I'm always here for you. I got you."

Adrien grinned, and nodded, retreating to his home. Alya turned, and began to walk away. The pair parted in silence, completely unaware that they so loved the same person.

* * *

 

The pancakes let off puffs of steam, the butter atop their fluffy masses slipping, melting away into yellowy perfection, soaking in with the syrup. A few fresh berries on top, dusted with sugar, looked absolutely appetizing, sweet and perfectly bulbous. And yet, Marinette felt sick to her stomach, unable to eat. 

Her parents sat across the table, matching worried smiles and furrowed brows, powdered sugar sprinkled across her father's mustache. Both stared at her, the way people stare at the older dogs in shelters, with a familiar pity in their eyes. Her mother spoke up first. "You haven't touched your breakfast, dear."

"I'm not hungry." She folded her arms. "I'd better just-"

"Marinette, we wanted to talk with you about yesterday." Her father interrupted. "About-"

"I'm fine."

"We just want to-"

"I said I'm fine."

The pair glanced at each other, that knowing glance that all parents have mastered, that conveys their frustration with their child, and their maddening lack of telepathy. After a moment, her father said, "We don't want to reprimand you, we just want to talk to you."

"And tell me what?"

"That we understand." Her mother placed a hand over her father's on the table. "Both of us were, at one point, akumatized, and we had to work through the resultant fallout. We understand what you're going through, and we want to help you."

"By doing what, exactly?"

It was her father's turn to speak. "We're here for you, however you need us. If you want somebody to talk to, talk to us."

"Okay, Marinette? We aren't mad at you- we just want to make sure you're not hurting. Please tell us, if you need to talk about it."

Marinette considered, for a moment, the obliviousness of her parents. Would they be hurt, or disappointed, or surprised, if they knew the full truth? Or some terrible combination of the three? Most likely, they would not understand, though they would try. They meant well, but they did not- they could not- understand the full scope of the issue.

"I understand." Marinette stood. "Thanks, mom. Dad."

"Where are you going?" Her mother piped up.

"I'm going to go see a meditation expert in the city, that Alya recommended on her blog."

Her father smiled. "That sounds like a good idea. Give us a call if you need anything."

Marinette nodded, spun on her heel. The doorbell rang.  The sudden, unexpected sound knocked her off balance, and she toppled backwards, landing on the table, somehow catapulting her plate of uneaten, buttery, syrupy pancakes into her hair. 

* * *

 

The sun crashed in through the curtainless windows, jolting Adrien awake. Beside him, on a little pillow that reeked awfully, slept Plagg, somehow snoring quite ferociously. Looking down at his hand, Adrien saw the ring, and smiled. Waiting for him on his desk last evening, it had been a welcome sight, even though Plagg was less than pleased with the events that had transpired.

Letting the kwami have his rest, Adrien stood, careful not to make a sound, as he crept on his toes towards the windows, looking out at the city. A lazy Saturday morning, the few people on the street were not yet awake enough, appearing lackadaisical, as though the air were thick as molasses. The air itself seemed cozier than usual, sugary and sweet, but with savory and strong scents filling out the spectrum. He turned, trying to locate the source of the smells, and to his surprise, noted that they must have originated inside of the house.

Still in his pajamas, he left his room (door slightly ajar so as not to wake Plagg), and followed his nose. Delicious things appeared in his mind, things that were reserved as treats, things that other families might appreciate on a regular Sunday brunch, rather than merely special occasions, such delicacies as homemade pain perdu. The cook never let any bread go stale, or at least hid the evidence if such heinous acts did occur, so the dish was a rarity, unless planned far in advance. 

Rarer still was the sight of his father, seated at the end of the table. A warm plate of decadent breakfast lay before him, untouched, and a matching plate lay before an empty seat, expectantly waiting for Adrien. His father smiled, as Adrien wandered into the room, mouth agape in alarm. 

"Father, what...?" Adrien found himself moving his hands about, struggling to articulate his confusion. "What is this?"

"I thought we could have breakfast together. It's been a while, hasn't it?" His father pulled his chair in, and set his napkin in his lap. "Join me, I had them make my favorite."

"Your favorite?"

"It occurred to me that you've not gotten to enjoy my mother's recipe, so I made it myself. I hope it fits the standards set by our usual cook. I gave her the day off." Gabriel gestured, picking up a knife. "Sit, sit."

Slowly, Adrien lowered himself to the chair, pulling it into the table, and looked at the plate. Now that it was before him, he saw the unevenness of the eggy crust on the bread, that some sections were more brown than golden; the odd sprinkling of powdered sugar, the little splash of a chocolate ganache along the edge of the plate, none of it perfectly curated, but still, showing a marked effort. His father was no chef, but Adrien had never heard him speak of enjoying food- making or eating it, for that matter. "Thank you, Father." 

Gabriel nodded, cutting small pieces of his bread, and dipping them into the chocolate, in silence. Adrien followed suit. Much to his surprise, the bread tasted excellent, even if not professionally made. It was a lovely surprise, and he savored that first bite. 

"Tell me, Adrien." His father cleared his throat. "How is school? Are you enjoying yourself?"

Mouth full, Adrien narrowed his eyes, not in suspicion, but in doubt. "School is... fun. It's nice, learning with peers, helping them, and they help me. It's nice having peers, as a matter of fact."

"Oh?" One word, and that was all.

"Yeah, Nino, for example, he's the best. I know you don't like him-" Gabriel cast a glance downwards, and Adrien continued, "-but he's incredibly considerate. He pushes me to be the best version of myself, not just academically, but socially, and mentally too. He expects absolutely nothing in return, but just gives me incredible support and enthusiasm, without fail. Even in little things."

"It sounds like you admire this Nino."

"More than that, Father, he's someone I look up to." Adrien paused, realizing that his father was actually listening. "He inspires others to be better, and..."

"And you want to offer that same inspiration. Not just to him, but to others. I understand." Gabriel nodded, and continued, "It's an admirable trait, to inspire others in that manner. I can see why you spend so much time with him, I suppose I didn't realize how positive his influence is."

"Really?"

"Are you surprised?" 

"Well, no, but-"

"I haven't been very communicative for the last several years, and I know our relationship has suffered for it. I'm glad that your friends have been able to help you so well during this time, and I'd like to know more about them."

"Really- so, this interrogation over breakfast will become a regular-"

Gabriel laughed, a sound Adrien had not heard in a long while. Adrien dropped his fork, and it clattered onto the table, splashing droplets of chocolate and butter across the wood. "Interrogation? That's a way of putting it. Adrien..."

"Yes, Father?"

His father let out a deep sigh, and placed his knife and fork down onto the plate. "I hardly know my own son, and... I would very much like to. I haven't known how to connect with you well, so I thought today, I might take the first step."

"With breakfast."

"Yes, with breakfast."

Adrien grinned. "Well, it's a good start."

"Glad to hear it." Gabriel picked up the knife and fork again, and resumed chopping away at his food. "Tell me about the other students in your class."

"There's a lot."

"After Nino, who would you consider-"

"Marinette."

Gabriel's eyes widened, ever so slightly. "A girl?"

Adrien's face fell, and he stammered, "No! No, well, yes, she is a girl, but I'm not interested in her like that."

His father chuckled. "I'll have to take your word."

Adrien cleared his throat. "She's a close friend. A great friend, really, she's fantastic. Incredibly talented- well, not talented, but she works hard, so she's got a lot of skill. She's so kind, and compassionate, and she's a great leader. She's the sort of person who would happily help you for hours with your homework when it's too tough, or run two miles just to bring you a cup of soup when you're sick, or take charge of a terrible situation to make sure everyone makes it out safe, even when it's at her own peril." His smile returned. "She's just awesome."

"Sounds like you admire her as well."

"Yes." Adrien nodded. "She admires you a lot, too."

"Is that right?"

"You remember, she's won a few competitions you hosted- you've always selected her designs above others, even in a blind contest. She wants to be a designer, and she's really working to achieve that goal."

"Why haven't you asked if I could talk with her?"

"I never thought you'd be interested."

"Maybe I should reconsider my priorities." Gabriel leaned back in his chair, having nearly finished his plate. "Tell her to come by the house someday after school, and I'd very much like to speak with her."

"Are you serious?" Adrien's grin widened, toothy and big. "That would be amazing."

"If she's really such an excellent person, I feel I should offer her at least the opportunity of a conversation. Perhaps she has some questions I could answer, and vice versa." Gabriel paused. "Was she the one on the news, yesterday?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Adrien's expression darkened, and his voice softened. "She was akumatized, yeah."

"What happened?"

Adrien's cheeks flushed, and he shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't make her any less of a good person- she's still the same Marinette- she was just used, taken advantage of, by Hawk Moth. What a-" He stopped himself. "I mean, you were akumatized once, Father, so you understand. She was unfairly and unjustly targeted because she had a bad day. She's a good person. Really."

Gabriel nodded. "I understand. She's welcome to come and speak with me, just ensure that she brings her portfolio when she does."

Adrien looked down at his plate, now scraped clean. He sighed, fuller than he had been in a while. "This was excellent, Father. Really. You should cook more often."

"Thank you." His father nodded. "I'll show you the recipe one of these days."

"That would be wonderful. But really..." Adrien stood. "It was nice just eating together, for once. It's nice to be able to talk to you."

Gabriel stood as well, slowly pushing out his chair. "From now on, my door is always open to you, Adrien." As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

* * *

 

Marinette swung the door open, and immediately regretted it. Chloe, in all her snide and uppity nature, stood before her, arms crossed, and lips pursed. The two girls stood straight, glaring at one another, both with a mixture of shock and annoyance, but surprisingly, without hatred. 

Chloe spoke first. "You know, you'd look better in red."

The advise (or insult?) brought a smirk to Marinette's face. "Thanks, Chloe. Why are you here?"

Chloe thrust forth her hand, in which she held a folder, stuffed haphazardly with papers. "Someone had to bring you your missed work from Chemistry."

"Thanks, I guess." Marinette took the folder, and held it against her chest. "I could have just caught up on Monday."

"Well, the teachers didn't think that was a good idea."

"So, what, you volunteered?"

Chloe turned up her nose, and looked away. 

Marinette spoke again, this time kinder in her tone. "Chloe... I wanted to apologize about yesterday."

"Ha!" Chloe rolled her eyes as dramatically as she could. "You were akumatized, I know what that's like better than anybody, I know it wasn't really you. I'm not mad at you, and you don't have to be sorry." She clearly noticed Marinette's gaping look of confusion. "Don't worry, Dupain-Cheng. I might be a bitch, but I'm not a _bitch_."

It was Marinette's turn to laugh, but she chose not to, instead pressing her lips into a smile. "That's... good to know. Could you..."

"Spit it out, I don't have all day."

"Could you do me a favor?"

"Probably not."

"I just wanted to know-"

"No," Chloe interrupted, "I know you want to know what happened, they always do. But I'm not going to tell you."

"What?"

"It's not something you need to know. It's not important." Chloe turned around on her heel, and spoke over her shoulder. "But if you ever actually need to know, I'll tell you."

Marinette thought for a moment, and Chloe waited for a response, tapping her foot impatiently. The kindness of the 'no' was unnecessary, and the offer of forgiveness- not even forgiveness, but a lack of assignment of fault in the first place- unexpected, especially from her. But, the longer she thought, the more Marinette considered Chloe's unique perspective. Akumatized more than any other civilian in Paris, and the cause of half of the others, and yet, the only publicly recognized superhero, in possession of her own Miraculous (at the hesitant approval of Fu and company, after she received public commendations for specific heroic acts)- Chloe was a wild card, always unexpected, always the unknown.

"Thank you, Chloe."

"Whatever."

* * *

 

Gabriel escorted Master Fu into the home. The little old man wore a broad smile, and a gaudy green Hawaiian shirt with a matching bag, in great contrast to Gabriel's chic white ensemble. Adrien's face lit up upon seeing his teacher, and he raced down the steps.

"Master Fu!"

"Yes, Adrien. Unfortunately, your regular tutor has fallen ill once again, so it seems I am here to resume her duties temporarily."

Gabriel nodded. "This substitution always proves beneficial to his studies, and I do appreciate your willingness. Adrien?"

"We'll work in my room, Father, if you don't mind."

Gabriel nodded again, and left, towards his study. Fu and Adrien ascended the steps in silence, neither speaking until the door was shut behind them. Plagg, however, was the first to speak.

"So how in the name of Marie Harel are you going to fix this mess?"

"Who?" Fu seemed puzzled. 

Adrien interjected, "The creator of Camambert."

"The creator of PERFECTION, I think you mean! But that's not the point- I was nearly taken! What's the plan here?"

Adrien sat down on his bed, and Fu took the chair at his desk. Wayzz poked his head out of one of the bulging pockets on Fu's cargo pants, and watched, as the two sat in silence, Plagg whizzing about in a flurry above their heads. 

"Hawk Moth knows who I am."

"Indeed."

"If I go outside-"

"He can easily get to you, yes."

"And we don't know who he is."

"So he could be someone you trust, someone you don't expect."

"Or worse, a stranger who just grabs me and shoves me in front of traffic."

"Indeed."

Wayzz spoke up. "Your safety is paramount, but, so is the safety of the Miraculous. Master-" He looked up at Fu, "Would it not be wise to keep the black cat Miraculous in with the others, at least until such time as it may be reassigned?"

"WHAT?" Plagg shouted, and Adrien shot him a glare. "Don't you dare! This boy gives me the best cheese in the world, when he could just as easily hand me-" The kwami shuddered- "Processed crap. And he's also the best at the job. But mainly the cheese thing." 

Fu chuckled. "I've never seen Plagg so unabashedly sentimental- he must really believe in you." Plagg nodded vigorously, bouncing up and down in midair. "And, he's right. Unfortunately, befitting the context of your Miraculous, you must remain in possession of it. Adrien, you are Chat Noir- hiding the Miraculous only gives Hawk Moth the upper hand, and admits a defeat. We cannot do something so foolish."

"But how am I supposed to walk around Paris, when I've got a massive target on my, well, hand?" Adrien held up his hand, and the ring glinted in the light, a little too bright to be silver. "How can I go to school, when my classmates could be collateral damage?"

"You can't." Plagg spoke curtly. "That would be dumb."

"I can't not go to school!" 

"You must consider your safety, and the safety of the ones you love." Fu took in a breath, as though to say something else, but thought better of it.

Adrien stood, and walked up to the window. "So, I'm on house arrest?"

"For the time being," Fu paused, "Yes."

Adrien turned around, his face set in a determined expression. "I guess that's the best way to keep everything in check, until we can figure out a better solution. But I agree- I don't want to give up the Miraculous. It's selfish, but I want to be there, when Ladybug takes down Hawk Moth, and unmasks the bastard."

"Ladybug? Adrien-" Fu frowned. "You are partners. You need to see yourself as an equal."

"She didn't get revealed to Hawk Moth, though."

"She has made her own mistakes, some of which, you do not know. But, Adrien, when it comes time to defeat the mastermind behind this unending chaos... You must be there, not just as support, but as a partner, as one half of the solution. You are just as vital as she."

"Hence being grounded."

"Yes."

Adrien groaned, and sat back down on his bed, placing his head in his hands. "And we're sure that no one else knows who I am?"

Fu shook his head. "Certain. It would be all over the news, and there hasn't been a word."

"Good." Adrien lifted his head. "At least there's that."

"And another thing." Fu grimaced. "You have a difficult choice ahead of you. Have you heard of the prisoner's dilemma?"

"Yeah, two prisoners, with two options; rat out the other, and receive a shortened sentence, or stay quiet, and serve your full sentence, but if both rat, both will have lengthened sentences. So, the logical option is to stay silent, but both prisoners would end up talking because of the chance of a lessened sentence. Bad decision making for a negligible chance of success."

"A grim way of putting it, but yes."

"How does this-" The realization hit Adrien like a potato to the face. "Oh. Oh!"

"Do you want to reveal your identity to Ladybug?"

Adrien's mind rushed with justifications, the same ones that he had run through a thousand times before, plus a hundred new ones.

If she knew his identity, she could protect him! She could help him! He would have a friend, a confidant, a true partner who would understand the full situation, not just the front presented while he wore the mask. If she knew his identity, she might be able to come up with a plan that would better suit the situation, as she had such a way of seeing things. If she knew his identity, and he was still stuck in his house, she could come in the evenings, and they could just sit and talk. If she knew his identity, he could help her even when not in costume, and she would know it was him. If she knew his identity, they could talk to each other, really talk, and really say the things that they couldn't say before. If she knew his identity, he could spend more than just sparse, intense minutes with her. If she knew his identity, he could learn hers. 

If he knew her identity, she would be just as vulnerable as him. If he knew her identity, she would never be safe, and neither would he. If he knew her identity, she would be at a disadvantage, all because of his mistakes. If he knew her identity, they could never be together, not so long as Hawk Moth still walked free, and the pain of that would be constant, not just heavy in the few moments he had with her. If he knew her identity, that would risk their relationship, and destroy their ability to fight so well together, to work so well together, to be everything needed for each other in that instance. If he knew her identity, too much could go wrong.  

"No."

"You don't wish to tell Ladybug who you are?"

Plagg audibly groaned, a sound akin to a motorboat refusing to start. Adrien cast another brief glare at him. "Too much could go wrong, and it would jeopardize her safety. My personal safety is not worth destroying hers. Maybe if she had been there to help me fight yesterday, the fight wouldn't have gone so wrong- but she wasn't, and I don't know why, but I shouldn't punish her for my mistake."

Plagg stuttered, making noises of annoyance for a solid minute, before finally stammering out the words: "Are you kidding me?"

Master Fu leaned over, and pulled a book out of his bag. "I see that you're serious, Adrien. If you change your mind, do let me know. I will be asking Ladybug the same."

Adrien nodded. "What's that for?"

"Pop quiz. Get out your notebook."

"Seriously?" Fu nodded. Plagg laughed, to which Adrien wisely retorted, "Shut up."

* * *

 

Her eyes were too lovely. 

Even closed, her lashes were too long, the shape of her eyes so relaxed and narrow, the brows soft and gentle. Her cheekbones just high enough, her skin too fair, too clean, too pristine. She looked as though she were taking a nap in a ray of sunlight, as the dust danced over the glass over her picture perfect face. 

Gabriel sat at her feet, leaning on the coffin, the preserver, that contraption that reminded him daily of his failures. Knees tucked up against his chest, head buried between them, he stared at the floor, and the film of dust that had gathered beneath him. He wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling them closer, like a child trying to hide in the middle of a game. 

"Emilie... What am I supposed to do?"

She did not respond. He wanted to imagine her laughter, but he could barely remember her smile. Not the mouth set in the perfectly serene expression, not the face that he could see if he just looked up; he wanted that smile that showed her too big front teeth, the crooked upper lip that twitched when she was about to fall into a fit of giggles. He wanted that smile that showed up when he snuck up behind her, and tickled her just below her ribcage. He wanted that smile that he first saw when he tripped down the staircase in college, though the sound of her ensuing laughter evaded him. And her voice, her voice was there, in his mind, clear as day, but as dead as a recording. He could not imagine new words, only remembered things, fleeting statements, simple sentiments, brief moments. It was a grace, and a curse, the same iteration of her last words playing over and over again in his mind, without variation, year after year, asking for his promise.

"Our son... He's the one who... He doesn't even know, and he's... He's keeping you away, and... I..."

He knew, in his heart, as he always had, that this entire plan was madness. Cruelty, to justify an act against nature? The justification was always in the ends, the means were never considered, given the circumstances; but, the circumstances had since changed. Or rather, the circumstances had been clarified, and the clarification muddied the waters. 

"I lost you... and I want-" He let out a breath. "No, I need you back... but I... I can't lose him too..."

She looked so lovely, even her feet, two sizes larger than they were when they met. She had never gotten over the swelling in her feet during her pregnancy, complaining every chance she got of the loss of her favorite shoes. Always complaining and arguing over trivial things, fussing over this and that. Funny, fond memories, where she would whine about the most specific of unimportant ideas, forcing debate over such topics as the right size of eggs for the perfect omelette. On important topics, they always agreed quickly, but she so loved to draw out the unimportant, messing with him enough to drive him crazy, enough to keep him amused. 

"I have to choose between definitely losing you, and potentially losing him. My son, my wife, my wife, my son. How can I make that choice?"

She did not answer.

"Please forgive me, for no matter my choice..." Gabriel noticed a tear, escaping from his eyes, and his nose felt heavy, his lip quivering. "No matter what I do, I am failing the ones I love. Please forgive me."

He looked up at her face, unchanged, pristine, perfect, and tried not to sob. The tears fell silently down his face, and he did not stop their fall, as they cut sharp marks into the dusty floor. She smiled still, hopefully dreaming of something lovely.

* * *

 

Alya crossed her legs beneath herself, now seated on Marinette's bed, flipping through the pages of her portfolio. "And it just, 'poof!' Fixed itself?"

"Well, yeah, just like Alix's watch, I guess." Marinette shrugged.

"So cool." Alya looked up, grinning. "It looks like everything turned out okay, then?"

Marinette nodded. "But it's my turn to ask questions for a little bit."

"Shoot."

"How did the interview go? I heard that you got the internship, but I want to know everything!"

"Nino?"

"Well, yeah!"

Alya chuckled, shaking her head. "Damn it, I shouldn't tell him anything. Anyways, I was super nervous, but then I remembered I was wearing my good luck charm, and it looks like it all turned out okay."

Marinette blushed. "Details!" She spun around in her desk chair, on which she sat backwards, and Alya laughed again.

"Fair enough. They asked a lot about my motivations, they seemed really stuck on the 'why', rather than the 'what'. I wasn't really prepared for that, but I did okay."

"What did you tell them?"

"Well, Ladybug's an inspiration to me, and I want to share how important she is." Marinette beamed, and Alya continued. "And then when you-" She cut herself off. 

"When I got akumatized? You can say it, Alya. I'm okay."

"Right... Well, I think you're the reason I got it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, seeing you up there totally broke my nerve, but at the same time, everything got raw. I was honest. Mostly because I wanted to get out of there and go get you, but yeah, it worked." Alya shrugged. "Seeing you like that... it really messed with my head, and they saw that, and I guess they liked something about my inability to keep my passion in check or something?"

Marinette frowned. "I don't think so."

"Then what?"

"I think... I think they saw your ability to really have perspective on a situation. You've been there, on all sides, and you know what it's like."

"Well I've never been a hero," Alya was quick to interject.

"You've been pretty darn close!" Marinette cheerfully retorted. "You understand. Objectively. And that's a rare quality."

Alya nodded. "I don't really think about myself that way, but..." She smiled. "Thanks."

"And by the way, I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

"It happened to me, years ago, don't worry! I got you."

"No, but it's different- it's different."

Alya rolled her eyes. "Girl, it's not different. If anything, I should be sorry, because I wasn't there. If I was there, I would have kicked Chloe's ass."

"I know you would have."

"And I wouldn't let you get to such a dark place."

"I know."

"And if I saw that akuma flying at you, I would eat it!"

Marinette broke into a fit of giggles, nearly falling off of her chair, and Alya barely contained herself. Once she calmed a bit, Marinette replied, "Thanks."

Alya blurted out, "Can I see it?" After a pause, she clarified, "The dress."

Marinette nodded, and from her pocket, pulled out the folded paper. She handed the drawing to Alya, who held it daintily, gently unfolding it, careful not to touch the marks on the page, so as not to potentially smudge them. Alya looked for a moment at the dress, soaking it in, before flipping the page over, and examining the tux. Marinette flushed in a wave of embarrassment, looking down at the floor. 

Alya spoke up again, after a minute or so. "It's one of the best things you've designed. I can see how much time you put into it. Why didn't you show me before?"

Still looking at the ground, Marinette mumbled, "It's embarrassing."

"Well sure, but that's part of who you are. And-" Alya smirked, "It's more impressive than embarrassing."

Marinette looked up. "What happened yesterday? What did I do?"

"Didn't you say Chloe came by this morning? I thought she would have told you. Rubbed it in your face a little."

"Weirdly enough, she didn't. She was actually really... well, nice isn't the word, but a version of it I guess?"

"Unusual..."

"Yeah."

Alya cleared her throat. "Well, I only saw the televised bits, so I only know what happened in the final confrontation. It looked like you were some sort of ink monster, slinging words and painting pictures, that became weaponized. Anyways. Chat Noir showed up, in Ladybug's costume, and he was with this old man dressed up as- uh, Carapace. No idea where the younger Carapace was." Alya shrugged, convincingly. "Anyhow, the old Carapace trapped you and Chat in his shell, and you two fought for a little while, and he said something, then you handed him the akuma, and that was it."

"I fought Chat Noir?"  _And lost?_ Marinette frowned.

"Yeah, turns out, you can really throw a punch." Alya smiled. "The big question is, where was Ladybug?"

"Well that's obvious, isn't it?" Alya squinted, shaking her head, and Marinette explained, "She must have been caught up in one of the ink traps or whatever, and somehow, gave her Miraculous to Chat Noir, or maybe he took them, so he could finish the job."

"I guess that's the only explanation. But it does beg a serious question."

"What's that?"

"Do the two of them know who the other is?" Marinette froze, and Alya kept talking. "For him to retrieve her Miraculous, he would have to know her identity. For her to give it to him, she would have to know his."

"But that's not..."

Alya kept going. "The only way that's not the case is if the old man... He could be an intermediary of some sort, who knows the identities of all of the Miraculous holders!"

"In that case, he would have to be protected, since his knowledge could destroy Ladybug and Chat Noir."

"Which would be dangerous..." Alya paused, and grinned. 

"What?"

"I need to write this up, a discussion on the potential reasons why Ladybug didn't show, but more specifically, why Chat Noir wore her mask." Alya stood, and gathered her things in her arms, placing Marinette's sketch back on the bed. "Let me know if you need to talk things out some more, and I'll race over. In the meantime, I've gotta write this up. It's going to generate a lot of talk. See you later!"

"Sounds like it." Marinette walked over to the exit, and opened it for Alya. "Be safe on your walk home, and text me when the article is posted!"

"You going somewhere?"

"Just a quick errand."

* * *

 

Cross legged on the floor, Marinette shut her eyes, hands folded over each other. "Alya told me about what happened, at least, what everyone saw." 

Marinette opened her eyes, and Master Fu nodded. "Indeed. It sounds as though she wanted to help."

"Well, even though she wasn't there in the moment, she's helping after the fact." Marinette smiled. 

"She was a good choice for the fox."

"Yeah, she was." Marinette placed her hands on the floor behind her, and leaned back. "Tikki said there was something we needed to speak about?"

"Indeed." Master Fu took a seat across from her, kneeling, and placing his hands in his lap. "We need to talk about what happened yesterday."

"Alya already told me."

"Not all of it." 

Marinette's eyes widened, and she stammered, "My Miraculous, right! I was just-"

"Not that." He smiled kindly. "I understand what happened before you were akumatized. Tikki and I spoke at some length, and I understand. You have been under much pressure, too much, and it culminated in the worst way, at the worst time. Because of your actions, you were able to keep the ladybug Miraculous out of Hawk Moth's hands. Even if your intent was not to protect the Miraculous, that was the result. I cannot be angry at you, for that."

"So, Tikki brought the Miraculous back? That explains how he got his hands on it..."

"But."

"But... why did he use my Miraculous, rather than just using the power-up? Isn't there one that gives him the ability to cure the akumatized?"

Wayzz and Tikki poked their heads out from beyond the jewelry box, watching Master Fu, hoping he would be able to break the news gently, waiting with bated breath. Unfortunately, he was not so tactful. "You took his Miraculous."

"What?" The first word was soft, as though she were shocked, and a little confused; "What!" The second word, upset, loud, and angry. 

"I'm afraid-"

"You mean Hawk Moth knows who Chat Noir is? And it's my fault?" She jumped up. "I saw Chat Noir without the mask!"

"It is not your fault. You were not in control. Hawk Moth is the one to blame."

"But I'm the one who did it!"

"If a chef burns his hand on a sauce, is it the fault of the sauce, the chef, or the flame?"

"I get what you're saying- I was the instrument of the action, not the mind behind it."

"Not quite." Master Fu stood, placing a hand on her shoulder. "The chef in this instance is the only conscious mind. The sauce cannot help being heated, no more than the flame can help being hot. You were akumatized, and you did everything you could not to give the Miraculous to Hawk Moth."

"But I could have prevented this!"

"True."  Marinette opened her mouth to defend herself, but Master Fu interrupted, "But it is not wise to dwell on your mistakes. We must work to fix them."

"We?"

"Mainly you."

"But if I messed it all up, how can you trust me to remedy-"

"This is your responsibility. Don't worry, I will not abandon you. I made an error of a far greater scale years ago, and I am still working, through you, to repair the damage."

Marinette sighed, and ran her hands through her hair, messing up her fringe. "I understand, but... What do I do? What am I supposed to do?"

"That is up to you."

She thought for a moment, before slowly saying, "The most important thing is to figure out Hawk Moth's identity, so that I can protect Chat Noir from him."

"Sounds like you've thought about this." He nodded. "I agree with you. How will you begin the search?"

Marinette shook her head. "I need to speak with Chat Noir."

"I've put him on house arrest, so that may be difficult. Do you want to know who he is?"

She hesitated. In the comics, in the books, in the movies, the heroes could never share their identities, lest they risk the safety of the ones they loved. Now, one of their identities had been compromised. Should they choose to reveal themselves to each other, they might be able to better protect one another, and definitely work together better; however, given the circumstances of their enemy's powerset, his ability to weasel his way into a person's head, to play with their mind knowing they would not retain the memory- no, they could not be aware of one another, no matter the benefits. She folded her arms, decisive, and shook her head.

"No. And I don't want him to know who I am, either."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Marinette nodded, with a grimace. "We know Hawk Moth can get into my head, and if he ever does again... I don't want him to be able to see any more of Chat Noir. I don't want him to know what I know of him. Or worse- I don't want Hawk Moth to know my identity, or anything, either. The more information we keep from Hawk Moth, the better. Even if that means the two of us remain in the dark, it maintains a little bit of a safety net."

He frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."

"As long as he and I don't know each other, Hawk Moth cannot interrogate us, and he cannot learn of our weaknesses, even if he gets inside of one of our heads." She sighed. "This is my fault, this whole thing. I don't want to potentially make it worse."

"Ah, I see." He smiled. "It's funny, Chat Noir came to the same conclusion as you."

"Then why did you ask?"

He chuckled, and gestured to the door. "A discussion on philosophy, for another time. You'd better head home, Marinette, it's getting late."

Turning towards the door, she unfolded her arms, letting them swing freely. Tikki swiftly followed, only to interject at the last moment, "Where should I start?"

"I have not made headway in my own investigation. Perhaps it's time for you to pursue a new direction." Master Fu opened the door for her. "All I can do is bid you the best of luck."


	3. Chapter 3

The cityscape, a darkened silver silhouette against a pale golden sky slowly filling with violet and blackness, grew quiet with the night. Marinette watched the people below her rooftop perch, running about as busybodies, cars speeding along as though their dinners and beds held strict deadlines. Every person knew her name and face, every person smiled at the thought of her endless, expected, known protection, yet none of them saw her standing there, or if they did, could not acknowledge her as she stood. Her watchful eye, her presence, warranted a wave or two from a few passers by, but no appreciation for her purpose.

Tikki rested out of view of the civilians below, staring up at the sky, with occasional glances towards Marinette. A frown unbecoming of the girl marred her face, sad eyes staring out at the people as though she saw something beyond the bustle below. Concerned, Tikki piped up, "I'm sure you'll think of a way to fix everything, Marinette."

"I know you are. And the rules say that we have to win this."

"The rules?" Tikki giggled. "What are you talking about?"

Marinette smiled. "You know, the rules. The movies, the books, the stories. It's in the rules that the good guys have to win, and the bad guys have to lose."

"I've never known you to ascribe to silly tropes."

"Well," Marinette's smile faded. "Right now, it's the only thing I can think of that makes me believe that we're still going to win."

"Don't say that!" Tikki balked at Marinette's words, shaking her head in disbelief and upset.

"We've had 3, no, almost 4 years now to figure out who Hawk Moth is, and to stop him. We're no closer now than we were at the beginning- if anything, we're further off."

"So?"

"So, there's nothing that's changed, except that Hawk Moth now has the upper hand." Marinette huffed, and leaned against the railing.

"Perhaps you'll find a way to use this change in circumstance to your advantage."

Marinette scoffed, and rested her head on her hands, awkwardly leaning too far forward. "Are you suggesting we use Chat Noir as bait?"

"It might come to that."

"I won't do anything that risks his safety."

"He would do anything to protect yours, Marinette." Marinette's cheeks blushed, and she looked away. Tikki continued, changing the subject abruptly: "I would do anything to protect your safety!"

Still looking away, Marinette spoke softly. "And I yours, obviously, Tikki. You're more than just my kwami. I want to keep the Miraculous, and everything it stands for safe, but you're my friend, and I need to keep you safe. I need to keep you both safe."

Tikki sighed, and looked down at the people below. The streets were not nearly vacant yet, but those tired souls still wandering about seemed too focused on what lay ahead than what lay above, so, the kwami took a seat upon the railing, resting for a moment.

Marinette looked over at Tikki, and asked, "What was the purpose of the Miraculous before?"

Tikki looked up at Marinette. "Before?"

With a sigh, Marinette stood up straight, and turned, leaning her back against the rail. "Before Hawk Moth. Before the two Miraculous were separated from the rest."

"Kwamis have existed from the very beginning."

"Well, yeah, I know that- the embodiments of abstract concepts as the universe birthed them, made concrete by some brilliant mage, through the link of magical jewels, the Miraculous. But... why?"

"Our purposes have varied through the years. In the beginning, we were muses. Humanity found inspiration through our presence, our magnified... well, you understand. There was a period of time where we were seen as miracles."

"Hence the name."

"Right. Even Nooroo- the butterfly. The wearer can sense the onset of tragedy, and can immediately empower a person at the scene, a bystander, an attacker, even a victim, to rise to action. His power is one of the most heroic of any, though it has been twisted by Hawk Moth. Anyways, word got out about us eventually, and that peace subsided, as humanity began to understand the scope of our existence. We do not have a purpose, for we are nothing but the representations of those things which drive humanity itself. Our uses, though, are manifold. Time passes, and we remain impartial but to the bias of goodness. Though, goodness is sometimes subjective. We have played witness and catalyst both in many major events throughout history, on every possible side."

"What does that mean?"

"Sometimes, Miraculous have been pitted against one another."

"Like Hawk Moth is doing now? How did you-"

Tikki shook her head, and Marinette clamped her mouth shut. "No, not like this. It was always man against man, never... never this." Marinette leaned back, and shut her eyes, as Tikki whispered, "No one has ever specifically targeted the Miraculous, not like this."

"Why hasn't that ever happened before?"

"They were well guarded, and their secrets unknown. The combination of Plagg's power, and mine, it was a secret well kept, until a mistake was made."

Marinette rolled her head to the side lazily. "You and Master Fu have continually mentioned this mistake, but you've never elaborated."

"I don't know the full extent, to tell the truth." Tikki flew up in the air, spinning about in circles, frustrated. "All I know is that a Miraculous, the Peacock, was given to someone who was... false. I know little else, other than that it caused the destruction of what I knew as my home for a very, very long time."

The two sat in silence for a little while, watching the streets grow emptier by the minute. Tikki came to rest beside Marinette once more, and they stared up at the gradually rising moon, a slender sliver in a vibrant sky.

* * *

 

Plagg groaned loudly, which turned into a mewling sound, reminiscent of a pissed off alley cat. Adrien narrowed his eyes, and nodded in spite. "I am bored out of my mind, Plagg. You can't change my mind because my mind is going-"

"Alright, alright! No need to be a drama queen. Just say it. Jeez." Plagg rolled his eyes, and sighed, dropping to the bed with a flourish.

"Right. I'm the drama queen." Adrien folded his arms, and muttered, "Claws out."

The tiny speck of moonlight barely lit his floor, ever so lightly illuminating the glass of his frustrating prison. Chat Noir leaped up onto a window sill, and pushed the window open. A light breeze sauntered in, cool and fresh, a lovely breath of relief. He shut his eyes, and for a moment, just appreciated the smell of the city- the salt of the water, the asphalt and tar and gasoline, the faint aroma of baked bread. Breathing in deeply, he grinned, and opened his eyes, looking out at this open city of possibility. He jumped away, staff protruding beneath him to provide an ample boost, soaring high above the rooftops. Retracting his staff, he sailed in the air, weightless for a moment, searching for something to relieve his boredom.

And there she was, Marinette, the lonely girl. Like many nights, she stood on her balcony, watching Paris with a little smile, and distant eyes. He could see her as a speck in the distance, but there she was, gazing up at the sky. Extending his staff once more, he pushed himself in her direction, flying silently, if not at all stealthily.

Her back turned to him, he landed quietly on the railing, with little more than a soft tap against the metal, and crouched, closely resembling his namesake in that moment. For a few seconds, the girl said and did nothing, still transfixed by the sky above, her head lost in the stars. He looked up in the same direction, and asked quietly, "Do you know the constellations?"

Marinette shrieked, and stumbled backwards, nearly falling off of the edge of the balcony, catching herself on the rail. Chat Noir suppressed a smile, but after a few seconds, the grin broke through anyways. She scrunched up her nose, and crossed her arms. "What are you doing here? Didn't we just say goodbye?"

"I wanted to check up on you."

"Thanks, I guess." Marinette turned her head towards him, acknowledging him with an awkward nod. "I suppose being akumatized warrants a checkup. Worried I'll wreak havoc upon the city again if I get gum on my shoe?"

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds kind of silly."

"Kind of? I meant for it to sound extremely silly."

"Fair enough." Chat Noir hopped down from the railing, and leaned against it beside her. "How are you doing, though?"

She let out a groan, rolling her eyes. Spinning on her heel, she leaned against the rail, and looked out at the city. "I'm sorry."

He blinked, and furrowed his brow, lips parting in confusion. She continued. "Listen... Chat Noir, I am sorry. I am. I don't remember what... I'm sorry."

He had not seen her stumble over her words this badly in a while, even when he was without the mask. He tried to speak, but she kept on, and he listened. "...And I wanted to tell- I mean to say, well, if there's anything I can do for you. If I can help you, just- If I can-"

He interrupted her, mid thought. "You don't need to do anything for me, Marinette. Except-"

It was her turn to interrupt. "What?"

He chuckled. "Except next time, whenever you find yourself in that place, just come to me."

Again, it was her turn to laugh.

"I don't mean come to me literally..." He frowned, and looked around, and a spark of a smile appeared on his face. "Just come up here, to this little balcony, and wait for me."

"And what are you going to do?"

"I'll talk to you. And hopefully, I'll help talk you down."

"And if you're busy?"

"Well, I'll be busier if you get akumatized."

"Oh. That's fair, I guess."

They both smiled for themselves, and looked at each other. The sun had very nearly set, just a pinch of its light peeking out from above the horizon, almost completely masked by the shapes of the buildings surrounding the pair. Above, the stars shone weakly, turned dim by the light from the streetlamps below. After a while, Chat Noir spoke up. "What do you think about Hawk Moth?"

"What do _I_ think about Hawk Moth?" She repeated the question incredulously.

"Can you remember anything about him? Maybe in the moments before-"

"No." She shook her head, and looked down at her feet, as though ashamed. "I'm sor-"

"If you say that you're sorry again I'm going to push you off of this balcony."

She rolled her eyes, and let out a laugh, disguised as an annoyed huff. "Fine. My turn to ask a question."

"Ask away."

"What do you think he wants?"

"Hawk Moth?" She nodded, and he grimaced. "Well, it's gotta be something big."

"Oh?"

"He wants the Miraculous, and... Well, I'm sure you've read the theories, on the combination of the two."

She nodded. "A wish to be granted, for an equal cost."

"Which is why we're wary... we can't risk whatever that cost is."

"But what do you think the wish is?"

"I really don't know." He shook his head. "If I knew who Hawk Moth was, maybe, but..."

"But you don't."

"Right."

She sat on the ground, sliding down against the bars of the railing. "Well, what's your great wish?"

"I don't have one so big that I would-"

"Really, nothing?"

He slid down to sit beside her. "I mean, my great wish that has a chance of success, of actually happening..." She looked away, as he continued, a dopey smile on his face. "Ladybug. I wish that I knew her, really knew her, and that she would..." He trailed off.

"You've mentioned."

His expression darkened. "But I do wish for other things, things that won't happen. They can't." She looked up, but did not say anything, letting him continue after a pause. "My parents..."

"Stop talking." She gritted her teeth. "I can't know who you are. No one can. Not even hints."

He stopped, and nodded. "Sorry."

In a mocking tone, she replied, "Shall I push you off of the balcony?"

He rolled his eyes, and hid a proud little smile. "Ha, ha. What about you?"

"I don't know."

"You're the one who asked in the first place. Surely you've thought about the answer to your own question?"

Marinette sucked in her breath, and held it for a moment, thinking, puffing out her cheeks. Chat Noir bit the inside of his cheek, suppressing the grin that wanted to return. She let out the breath, and spoke gingerly, poring over each syllable. "I think... I would wish that whatever had brought the Miraculous to Hawk Moth, would be reversed, so that none of-" She gestured wildly- " _This_ would have happened."

"Really, that's your wish?" He scoffed, playfully.

"What?"

"It's too... goody two shoes. What's your wish for you?"

"Really, that. That's it." She sighed. "I would just hope that it has some sort of paradox prevention, as the wish could only be made if the wish had never been-"

He snorted a bout of laughter, and she nearly jumped. He crawled a little closer to her, grinning at her, without breaking eye contact. "Your wish has to do with the good of humanity, rather than personal gain, and you're worried about the space time continuum? You're allowed to be selfish, Marinette. Take a moment. Tell me your secrets. What is it you really wish for?"

Her cheeks darkened to a deep pink, as she looked up at him. "I... I don't..."

"You, you do."

"I wish that I could."

"Could what?"

"Be selfish."

"Oh come on." He slumped back, folding his arms, and pouting. "That's no fun."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"There's nothing you want more than anything else that transcends logic or even sentiment?"

"No." She cringed at herself, and looked down at the concrete of the balcony. "No... Really! There's a lot I want, but I don't want it enough to risk something going horribly wrong. I wish that I could prioritize what I want above what I believe is right, because that would make life a lot easier to live, you know? But I can't. Paradoxes abound here, I suppose."

"I suppose it's that way with any wish."

"Guess so."

* * *

 

His hands shook. In them, he held the thick pink cardstock in the shape of a heart, gently worn at the edges. His eyes widened as he read, silently:

> _"Your hair shines like the sun_   
>  _Your eyes are gorgeous green,_   
>  _I look at you and wonder_   
>  _Your innermost thoughts and dreams._   
>  _Yes, your Valentine I will be,_   
>  _Our love will be so true,  
>  Together for eternity,  
>  My heart belongs to you."_

He read the letter again, and then again. Mouthing the words, he still could not believe what was plainly written before his eyes. A love letter, to his son. And though the card bore no signature, purely anonymous, it could only be from her. He knew, illogical though it was, that this card must have been penned by none other than Ladybug herself. Seething, he wanted to tear the note to shreds, to throw it into a fire, to destroy it however he could- but he could not. Instead, he gently set the card back in its rather indiscreet hiding place, and continued to search the room, delicately ensuring that no evidence of his stealth could be left behind. 

But that note, that stupid little poem with the bad rhymes and the silly meter, it must have been written a while back. Now nearing December, the last Valentine's day was almost a year past- meaning, at the very least, these two had been smitten for nearly a year. However, the age of the paper, its faded coloring, led him to believe that the note had been read and reread many times more, for many years more. Could it be?

Ladybug had sent Adrien- or, rather, Chat Noir- a letter confessing her love for him, but the wording and the circumstances drove him mad. The words 'Yes', and 'I will' implied an answer to a question, a response to his own confession of love. He had asked her first. And he had kept her answer all the while.

Gabriel sat on Adrien's bed, and put his head in his hands, eyes wide open. The boy loved her. His son was the enemy, and he was somehow in love with the enemy, too. He dropped his hands, and a few strands of hair fell from his relaxed grip. Staring at the strands on the ground, his mind whirled in circles, wondering how they could have landed in this disastrous situation.

Had he told his son in the first place, would the boy have understood? Likely not, no... But, he would not have fought against his own father. That much was certain. Just after Emilie's disappearance, when emotions were raw and untested, Adrien would not have understood, but he would not have stood in the way. If only he had the foresight to communicate, perhaps he could have recruited-

But, no. Not only could the past not be erased, Adrien's life could not have been risked through his involvement. Gabriel knew. He had always known that there was a price to pay for his wish, and he was prepared to pay that price. He, not his son. 

Suddenly, he sat up. As the thought of his son's paradoxical safety crossed his mind, the gears turned, and he recognized the answer within the problem itself. If the boy loved the girl, an injury to her would be greater than an injury to him, and it would not harm him, no. Not if he gained the power that could erase horror and restore the good, not if he had the Miraculous.

Gabriel stood, a dim smile sneaking up on his face. A childish romance turned conspicuous weapon. How perfect.

* * *

 

_A young man, too tall and far too thin, with limbs too long to be anything but clumsy, adjusted his collar. It seemed to squeeze at his neck, rubbing against his skin uncomfortably, pressed and yet wrinkled, strangely cool yet weirdly warm. His tie felt like a noose- not in the sense of a hanged man, but in the sense of a sailor's knot, pristine, tied in distinct awareness of the potential of disasters to come. His blonde hair fell to his shoulders, combed and yet still unruly, locks near the edges of his face threatening to jump before his eyes as he shuffled forward._

_The courtyard was far from empty. Several people chatted about in groups surrounding a fountain at the center, while pairs and triples of people made their way across the place with assumption of purpose, and individuals hurried, heads bowed slightly, avoiding eye contact, bored of the scenery. Shrubbery in lovely designs decorated the expanse, some few saplings peeking out beyond, from beneath the stubborn concrete._

_Unfortunately, the man's foot discovered the existence of these brave little beginnings of trees a moment before his eyes, just before he reached the stairs, leading down into the office spaces. He could see the windows, and they could see him, as he fell in a blur, knocking his glasses on the stone, and scattering his portfolio across the stair, some papers floating down almost whimsically, mocking him with their lilting path in the air._

_Also mocking him was the laughter. One voice, in a raucous giggle, did not bother to hide her glee, as she held her stomach, sustaining her laughter. She quietened after a moment, and he took that pause to get to his knees, only to slip on nothing, and faceplant once more. This time, her laughter was silent, as her eyes teared up, wide as she struggled for air, a gigantic grin on her face._

_He searched the ground for his glasses, placed them on, and scrambled to his feet. The girl slowly stopped laughing, although an occasional chuckle escaped from her barely contained smile. He felt the blush rising to his cheeks, and tucked his hair behind his ears, shuffling away, and subsequently kneeling to pick up his spilled portfolio. To his surprise, she knelt beside him, and began to help._

_"You here for an interview, cool guy?"_

_"Yes." He avoided looking at her, his cheeks still red. "And I'm late."_

_"Not a good first impression, that." She picked up one paper, and her grin turned to a thin smile as she admired the intricate design of a lovely scarf._

_He snatched the paper from her. "It's not-"_

_"It's good." She snatched it back. "I like it." To his utter shock, she folded the paper, and pocketed it. She then picked up a short stack of papers she had compiled, and pushed them into his arms._

_The pair stood, and he, still flustered, stuttered over his words. "I need that back."_

_She shook her head. "No, no, you don't. What you need is a little bad luck."_

_"What?" He balked at her, completely confounded._

_She turned away from him, waving halfheartedly. "If you make it with bad luck, you can make it; good luck would muddy the waters."_

_He watched her retreat, and it occurred to him as she disappeared around a corner that he did not ask her name. He thought, for a moment, about going after her, and took a step forward. However, her confusing wish of bad luck upon him made him wonder, and head towards his intended destination, the unknown, the beginning, the interview._

_What kind of woman would ask a man to prove himself, just after he tripped over his own feet?_

* * *

 

Sabrina looked up at the sky, now a hazy blue verging on black, little pinpricks of light breaking through that dull fabric. A smile filled her face, as she leaned on Chloe's shoulder.

"Why are you still looking up? The sun set, like, 15 minutes ago."

"I'm just enjoying the night sky."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "That's just silly."

"Well, what do you want to do, Chloe?" Sabrina broke the gaze, and rolled her head to look up at the girl. Her smile grew bigger when Chloe smirked.

"We don't need to do anything else." Chloe snuck an arm around Sabrina, and pulled her closer. "We can just sit here for a little while. Even if it's a little silly."

Sabrina shut her eyes, enjoying the warmth of Chloe's arm for a moment. She leaned up, craning her neck a little, only for Chloe to retreat her arm, and push Sabrina away. Sabrina opened her eyes, to see Chloe's frown, that cute little nose scrunched up in frustration. "Chloe?"

"Come on, Sabrina!" Annoyed. Always annoyed. "Don't."

"But-"

"Don't make me the bitch here. I'm tired of being the bitch."

"But-"

"Sabrina!"

Sabrina slumped against the bench, and folded her arms. "I know."

"I don't want to say it again."

"I know!" Sabrina whispered. "Everyone knows you're Queen Bee, and you're the easiest target. So it's-"

"I just want you to be safe, Sabrina." Chloe's pout became darker.

Sabrina nodded. "I know. But I want you to be happy."

"I'll be happy if you're safe. And if  _we're_ public, then you won't be safe." 

A bird landed on the edge of the bench, something of dark coloring, with bright eyes, and a white beak. It cocked its head, looking at the pair, and Sabrina reached across Chloe's lap to touch the bird. A second before her hand reached its head, it flew off, and she let out a little shriek. Chloe chuckled, and Sabrina collapsed on her back, and rolled to look up at her. 

"You're certain Marinette won't tell?"

Chloe sighed, and shook her head. "I really don't know, but... I don't think it's worth it to hurt Marinette again, if it means she's at risk for akumatization. I don't want her to come after you."

"But we need to make sure she's-"

"She's not going to say anything. Hurting her to the point where she cannot tell without it seeming like a petty revenge, it's just not worth it if it means you might get hurt by... him."

Sabrina let out a huff. "But I want you to be safe, too. And as long as she has leverage-"

"I don't think she sees us as leverage."

"Then how-"

"I don't know, okay?" Chloe sighed again, this time far more dramatically, tossing her hair unnecessarily. "But she doesn't see our relationship as something she can use to her advantage. She just sees us as... I don't know."

"You don't know."

"She's an idiot sometimes, but she's not cruel, not like me."

"You're not!" Chloe rolled her eyes, and Sabrina stifled a chuckle. "Okay, you are, but you went overboard because you were scared she'd tell, and hurt me."

"I won't let them hurt you."

"I know."

"Even if that requires that I'm a bit of a bitch."

Sabrina giggled. "I know." She drew out the last syllable, and sighed happily. 

Chloe reached into her pocket, and pulled out a little silver thing, a plain ring, no ornamentation. Unlike any of her usual jewelry, it was simple, almost cheap looking- clearly silver, but just silver. Only silver. She rubbed it between her fingers, and lifted Sabrina's left hand, and placed the ring on the girl's ring finger. It slid on clumsily, getting stuck for a moment on her knuckle, before finally resting. Sabrina lifted her own hand, and admired the ring. 

Chloe immediately jumped to her own defense. "I know it's too plain, and it's not even gold. I should have waited, and gotten gold. Or at least a little emerald. It's a promise ring, and I wanted to make a promise to you, and that's that I'm going to keep you safe." She repeated herself. "I'm going to keep you safe."

Sabrina said nothing, so Chloe continued. "I know it's not much. I should have gotten you something better. But you know, it's really hard to make money! I've been taking on gigs as a dancer just to get the money, because it's my promise, not my dad's, and I know it's not much, but-"

"It's perfect." Sabrina, astonished, spoke breathlessly. "Thank you."

Chloe's face turned a bright red, and she leaned down, and planted a little kiss on Sabrina's forehead. "I promise I'll keep you safe. Just... wait for me. Ok?"

* * *

 

Nino snored loudly, his mouth gaping open, a tempting opening for a prank. Alya just smiled, watching him snort, in the middle of some interesting dream. A jar of sriracha was sitting right there, just within arm's reach, begging to be poured... but she could not. It was too sweet, watching him sleep, splayed out across the couch so lazily. Trixx eyed the jar as well, hesitant, clearly stuck between the choices of a prank, and popcorn. After a wary glare from Alya, Trixx elected to bury herself in the bowl of popcorn, munching away a little too loudly.

The boy jerked awake, sitting up suddenly, shouting something about the dynasty of slothkind. Alya snorted, and shushed him, and pulled him close to her, and he nearly jumped, as though he'd forgotten that she was there, despite the fact that he was quite obviously in her house. The TV quietly muttered in the background, a documentary on sloths playing in some language neither could understand, narrated by a soothing voice.

"How long was I asleep?" Nino yawned, and sank into Alya, shutting his eyes again. She kissed his cheek, and he grinned, but did not move otherwise. As a result, she then pinched his arm, and he flinched, eyes slamming open. "Hey!"

"Don't you fall asleep on me again."

"But I'm tired."

"I'm tired, too, but how can you sleep when there are so many things to think about?"

He gestured vaguely, shaking his head. "Because sleep, Alya. Sleep is nice. You should try it."

"Sleep is for the weak."

"Now you're sounding like your sis-" She grabbed a pillow, and whacked him in the back with it. 

"Shut up and talk to me."

He laughed, and shifted himself over to sit beside her. "So, what is it that's spinning around in your head that's making you ruin my sleep?"

"Dumbasses." She blew a stray strand of hair out of her face. "Pure dumbassery."

"Ah, so Adrien and Marinette. Gotcha."

"Isn't it always at least one of them?"

"No."

"No?"

"It's always both."

She snorted again, rolling her eyes. "I'd laugh, but it's too true to be a joke."

"They are dumb, but what is it that's bothering you this time?"

"You promise you won't tell?"

"No, but like, tell me anyways." He grabbed a handful of popcorn, and shoved it in his mouth. Trixx poked her head out from the bowl, and scowled at him. He grinned a popcorn filled grin at the kwami, and she sank back into the buttery goodness.

"Adrien's got a crush."

"Yeah, on Ladybug."

"What?" She pressed her hands into the couch cushion beside her knees, clutching the fabric in frustration. "He told me he hadn't told anyone! Seriously?"

Nino shrugged. "He never told me, but like, he's a hopeless romantic, and he keeps playing the part of the damsel in distress, and he's got cutouts of her in his-"

"For the love of- do NOT finish that sentence!" She fake retched, turning up her nose, and relaxed her arms. 

"Nah, nothing like that. Well, maybe." She shot him a death glare, and he continued. "But he's got the hots for her, no question."

"He straight up told me."

"Really? Why?"

"Seemed like he needed to."

"Well, maybe saying it out loud made him realize-"

"Nope." She rolled her eyes. "He's still an idiot."

"And Marinette is right there!" He gestured emphatically, as though Marinette were seated before them, pointing at nothing. He groaned, leaning his head back, as though in terribly dramatic pain. "And they're literally-"

"I know!" She dragged out the last syllable, and leaned her head back. "It's so dumb."

He reached a hand around her shoulders, so that she could rest her head on his arm. "How is Marinette, anyways? Coping well?"

"Surprisingly, yeah. She seems okay. Better than I expected, at least."

"Well, that's good."

"Yeah."

Alya shut her eyes, and breathed in deeply. Nino had started showering with a lavender and rose scented soap, a lovely scent that did not match his presence at all, but he defended it because it smelled like pretty flowers, and he liked pretty flowers. She smiled, appreciating the uncharacteristic soap, the buttered popcorn, the remnants of the hot cocoa they had finished hours ago, still lingering in the air. 

Nino interrupted the silence. "Ladybug's a dumbass, too, though."

"Don't you talk that way about my girl!" Her voice was sharp, suddenly, although still playful.

"I mean you've seen the way she and Chat talk, right? There's no way that's platonic, no matter what she says."

"Well, duh. He's got an obvious thing for her, and she's got a conspicuous thing for him despite her protests to the contrary, but she doesn't want to admit it, for whatever reason."

"You ever asked her, straight up? You're her number one lieutenant, Rena Rouge." 

She suppressed a grin when he said her name. "Shush, my sisters are in the next room."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Well," She opened her eyes, to see Trixx peering over the edge of the bowl, eavesdropping. "Trixx!" Trixx disappeared once more, although Alya knew the kwami was still listening intently. She rolled her eyes, knowing that Trixx was likely doing the same beneath cover of white and red striped plastic.

"Well?"

"Ugh, I don't know. She's dumb. He's dumb. Literally all of our friends are dumb. They need to just, I don't know, make out or something. I feel like that would solve at least half of the problems we have here."

Nino nodded in oddly stern agreement. He paused, mid nod, and cocked his head. "Does that make us the only smart ones of the Miracu-"

"Yes. Yes it does. Now shush before my sisters hear you!"

He smiled, and slid down the couch, not so slyly resting his head in her lap. She placed a hand on his head, stroking his hair. He closed his eyes, and within moments, fell back to sleep. 

* * *

 

Nooroo watched as Natalie took her seat. Off in the corner of the room, Duusuu shuddered, eyes glassy, feathers drooping. It took the might of his willpower not to rush over and help the poor thing. His master spoke, and he forced himself to look away. "I have learned the identity of Chat Noir."

"Sir." Natalie smiled faintly. "That is fantastic news."

"No." Gabriel, the only one still standing, turned away from her. 

"No? But sir, how is that anything but an advantage?" Her smile remained, but her brow furrowed with concern. 

Nooroo opened his mouth to speak. Gabriel immediately shot Nooroo a glare, and the kwami shut his mouth, and bowed his head. Turning to face Natalie, Gabriel spoke softly. "It's Adrien."

Natalie sat still, eyes widening, hands gripping the arms of her chair. Duusuu looked up from the corner, only to cast her gaze downward once more, beginning to weep softly. Natalie's head turned a fraction to her right, in the opposite direction from her kwami, as if she wanted to escape that whimpering noise, but the shock paralyzed her. Finally, she whispered, "Are you sure?"

"The akuma yesterday unmasked him. It is him. Chat Noir is-" His voice broke.

"Your son." Natalie swallowed empty air. "Adrien."

Gabriel nodded, and the two sat in a stone silence, cold and clean, the sort of silence in the middle of a hospital ward too early in the morning, or that of a doll in a toy store, yet to be played and danced with by some little girl they had yet to meet. The only sounds were the faint noise of the city, and the soft weeping of Duusuu in the westward corner.

Natalie held the arms of her chair tight, and pushed herself up, hunching over as she did. Gabriel rushed over, and, still poised as ever, placed a hand on her back, holding one of her hands, and helping her stand straight. Duusuu quietened, returning to her silence, and slumping against the wall in a sort of stupor. "Natalie, please, you should sit down."

"That damned Miraculous- I'm sorry, Gabriel, but you must let me help you. Now, more than ever."

"No." He stepped away, grabbing her cane from its resting place beside her chair, and handing it to her. "Just the few uses so far have already harmed you enough."

"And those ill effects will not simply vanish, they are not going to fade away on their own."

"Natalie, you should not accelerate-"

She kept speaking, with no regard for his ill timed interjection. "Your son is involved, Gabriel, so this needs to end. Soon."

"Natalie!" He shouted her name, but she was not perturbed. 

"Yes, sir?" She bit the words, almost angrily, and yet polite.

"We must consider the circumstances, and we need to reexamine the plan, with Adrien in mind. Knowing that he-"

She raised her voice, and interrupted just short of a shout, "Sir, with all due respect, the safest way to progress is for me to use the power of the second Miraculous in your possession to help you achieve your goals. Doubling your power, doubling your efforts, to achieve your goals! Our goals! And Adrien will understand- he must."

"He won't."

"If he doesn't, you can make him forget."

"He's my son, not a-"

"He's a superhero, and right now, one of two standing in the way of-"

"He's my son!" This time, his shout shook even Duusuu, who blinked, looking almost lucid for a moment, before retreating once more. Natalie took a feeble step back. "He's my son, and you are... you are important, Natalie, but in other ways than the Miraculous. We can find another way. Another way that doesn't hurt you, that doesn't hurt anyone else. Least of all the two people I..." He stopped, trailing off, as her brooch began to glow.

A lovely blue, with a halo of gold surrounding its hesitant color, the brooch pulsed softly, reminiscent of a beating heart in some old cartoon. As it pulsed, Natalie stood taller, her face hardening. 

Gabriel spoke in a strong, stern voice: "Don't."

Natalie responded in kind, "I must."

"You don't."

"Do you think it's a coincidence that-"

"No, I do not, but..." He hung his head lower, his shoulders relaxing from their posture. "I can't..."

Natalie offered a slim smile, and for a second, her face seemed twenty years younger. That smile disappeared as quickly as it had come, as she shook her head. He stepped forward, as if to chase after her, as she slowly limped away. Duusuu rose from the corner, following in a straight line, as though pulled by a string. A moment later, the door shut behind them both, a soft click of metal against wood.

He whispered to no one, forgetting for a moment that Nooroo floated just feet away: "I can't lose you, too."

_Everyone, you mean._ Nooroo finished the thought, watching with conflict welling up in his little heart. _Emilie, and Adrien, and now... y_ _ou can't lose everyone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know this chapter's a little shorter than the others... okay, a lot shorter. I promise I'll (more than) make up for it next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

_ Ladybug landed in the alley, hard, as rain fell around her. She fell to her knees, palms landing flat on the concrete, splashing in a thin puddle. Shuffling behind a dumpster, she felt the magic melt away from her, as she detransformed. Tikki, exhausted, fell into her lap, and smiled up at Marinette. _

_ "You did good, Tikki," Marinette whispered. Tikki yawned, eyes lazily fluttering shut, as Marinette gently placed her in her clutch, where a little pillow waited, cozy, silky, and warm.  _

_ Breathing heavily, Marinette shut her own eyes, relaxing for a moment. The constant fall of specks of rain, combined with the smell from the dumpster, having all of the trash from the hotel's kitchens, while not too appealing to the senses, managed to help her stay awake. She grabbed a metal ledge, and pulled herself upright, feeling her hamstrings pulling on her knees, the small of her back aching, just a bit too sore. Looking out towards the road, she saw a locked gate in one direction, and darkness down the other. Tikki, now asleep, offered no help in ascending the gate; and so, she chose the darkness. _

_ Creeping along the edge of the brick walls, Marinette heard a noise, a soft sound, a sigh of happy breath from mere meters away. She took a few steps forward, and head another noise, a quiet giggle, and a name. _

_ "Chloe..." _

_ Lightning flashed, right before her eyes, lighting up the alley in full. There they were, Sabrina and Chloe, caught in an embrace, wound up in a kiss. Chloe's eyes were shut, but Sabrina's flew open, almost anticipating the light, just in time to see Marinette.  _

_ "Chloe!" _

_ They separated, and Chloe spun around in the darkness, eyes readjusting to see the silhouette of Marinette against the wall of the alley. Marinette could not see the girl's face, but the air grew cold, as Chloe took in a deep breath. Her scream drowned out the thunder. _

* * *

 

Marinette sat up straight, her comforter falling to the floor. Cold sweat dripped down her neck and chest, filling the palms of her hands, and staining the silk of her nightshirt. She could feel her hair matted by it against her head, a mess torn from its usual constraints. The ribbons lay on her pillow, crumpled and worn, ready to be retired. Back hunched, shoulders drooping, hands gripping the sheets. Marinette took shallow breaths, squeezing her eyes shut. A small voice tore her away from the night terror.

"Marinette, are you alright?" 

She opened her eyes, to see a sleepy Tikki floating before her. A smile came to her face, and she relaxed. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Bad dream?"

Marinette laid back on her pillow, hair flopping onto the cotton without an ounce of grace. "You could certainly say that."

"Was it..." Tikki trailed off, and floated down, to rest beside Marinette.

She rolled to her side, to face Tikki. "Hawk Moth? No, not this time."

"Then what?" Tikki paled, and shivered. "Are you... remembering?"

"Yeah." Tikki gasped, and Marinette shook her head. "No, not the akuma... just a bad memory. A very bad memory..."

Tikki nodded, and pulled Marinette's top sheet up an inch, to cover her little body. Marinette adjusted her pillow, and sighed, closing her eyes, rolling back onto her back. A cool breeze wafted in from the cracked open window, causing the pictures on the walls to flutter, a soft rustle filling the room, briefly. Tikki spoke, her voice soft as the wind. "The most terrible nightmares are not imagined, but remembered."

Marinette drifted into the reluctant arms of sleep, restless thoughts of guilt filling her heart to the brim.

* * *

Contorted, sitting with the toes of her right foot resting on the opposite knee, one arm reaching around her leg and the other gripping the bottle, Chloe concentrated. Carefully painting with delicate strokes thin layers of yellow on each toe, she listened, as Pollen yammered on, excitedly talking about the most monotonous events of the day. “And that sweater! You should wear that color more often.”

“What, yellow?”

“Yes! Yellow! It looked magnificent on you, my queen.”

Chloe smiled, and fixed the cap back on the bottle of polish, and laid back on her bed, wiggling her toes in the air. “It really does, doesn’t it.”

Pollen nodded happily, and flew in circles about Chloe’s head. “And that ring you gave Sabrina, that was just-"

"I know, I know, I should have waited longer, saved up more, to get something better than-"

"No, my queen, it was perfect!"  A stunned Chloe looked up, and Pollen continued, "The ring itself isn't what matters, it's the sentiment of it. And that was perfect. Just perfect."

Chloe beamed, lips pursed. She flopped onto her stomach, reaching under her bed, to pull out a thick binder, covered in gently stitched together purple cloth. A small silver plaque on the cover read, "Chloe and Sabrina", in a perfectly even cursive, with a heart etched in just below the A. Chloe traced a finger around the plaque, edges no longer as crisp as they had been years ago, with a few nicks and scratches along its corners, before she opened up the scrapbook.

Pollen flew around Chloe's shoulder, to perch, and gazed below at the photographs, smiling. "I wish we could have a scrapbook together, my queen."

"I know, Pollen, I do too."

"We could wear matching outfits!" Excited, Pollen hopped down, and turned the page, admiring the pictures.  Chloe chuckled.

Beside each picture, Sabrina had written a note, a short line of friendship, of love, or of literature. The pictures of the two of them as young children bore quotes from Winnie the Pooh, classic sentiments expressed through the wise mouths of a stuffed teddy bear and his very best friends, while those pictures of the pair as of late boasted Sabrina's own words, pouring out of her pen so excitedly that ink splotches marred the otherwise pristine pages. Some photographs were staged, some candid, all of them genuine. Chloe could not help but smile, as Pollen reached the end of the scrapbook. A cliche image of the two resting on the rooftop of the hotel, leaning in towards each other, with the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower in the hazy background, took up the entire last page, no words, just the look of mutual admiration, respect, and love in each other's eyes. 

"Why did you wait so long to give her the ring?"

"What?" Chloe started, blinking in confusion, her smile fading. "I didn't wait."

"You've loved her for a long time, haven't you?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then why did you wait?"

"Is this an interrogation?" Pollen backed away. Grabbing a pillow, Chloe squeezed it, leaning forward with a huff. "I wasn't sure for a while."

"But you're sure now?"

Chloe shrugged. "No, but... I'm..."

"Smitten?"

With a scoff, Chloe threw the pillow at Pollen, who ducked out of the way just in time. "No!"

"But you do want to be with her?"

Chloe nodded.

"Then why don't you tell the whole world? You didn't hesitate to tell the world about Queen Bee."

"I'm not ashamed of her!" Chloe slammed the scrapbook shut, and leaned back over to stuff it under the bed.

"I never said you were, my queen." Pollen bowed her head. "I only meant-"

"I love her, I really do." Chloe interrupted, "But I can't bear the thought of her being in danger... And because I didn't keep a secret before, I have to keep her a secret now."

"Why?" It took Chloe a moment to realize that Pollen had asked a genuine question, eyes wide with sadness.  


"Everyone knows my identity... If I tell people about us, then they can use her, they can hurt her, to get to the Miraculous."

"So you're hiding her, for the greater good?"

Chloe paused, and sighed, shutting her eyes, and laying back on the bed. "Something like that."

* * *

 

Her heart pounded in her chest, a light feeling almost like illness filling her stomach and neck and head, as though she were weightless, and yet, her feet weighed a thousand pounds, unable to walk away. She stared up at the penthouse suite of the hotel, and watched as the lights in the windows flickered out, leaving darkness behind. Dragging her feet, she barely managed to tear herself away.

Sabrina threw her head back, and let out a deep sigh, the smile on her face growing bright as the stars above. She could see in her mind, imagining Chloe up there, drifting off to sleep while clutching a teddy bear, looking out the window at the same stars. So close, and yet, so far away, Sabrina thought, as she trudged through the sidewalk. Her heart in her throat, she could still feel the warmth of Chloe's arms, she could still smell the jasmine in her hair, the cherries in her perfume, and she could still see that smile, that beautiful smile, on her lips.

She felt almost giddy, but the sadness overwhelmed her, too. Holding one hand in the other, she fingered her ring, turning it around her finger. She cupped her hands, and stared at the ring, still not believing that it was there, truly. A promise, a secret, a ring, it meant so much and yet, it must be hidden. She could not speak the words to express her frustration, nor her happiness, nor her devastation. Waiting, waiting for so long, for some day that might not come for such a very long time...

A feather fell into her hand, sinking into the ring. She felt comfort, the same comfort of the embrace of a father after being away at school for a very difficult day, the same comfort of chicken soup on a cold day of fever, the same comfort of a plush bed with lots of pillows and blankets on a cozy evening in the summertime. Shutting her eyes, she breathed deeply.

"Sabrina."

The world grew quiet around her, everything falling away to the faintest hum.

"You are filled with these conflicting feelings, of love, and angst. You want to be with the one you love, and yet, you cannot, for a sense of duty you cannot hope to triumph. You want to be with her... no, you need to be with her."

She felt a sadness in the voice, a mutual understanding of the pain marring her heart. Her fingertips and toes felt numb, her heart still thumping far too loudly in her chest, the only sound she could hear for miles. Even the stars seemed to fade away.

"Let me help you."

* * *

 

 

Chat Noir slipped in through the window, landing silently on all fours, careful not to make a noise. In a soft whisper, he said, "Claws in."

Plagg immediately went for the cheese drawer, and after phasing through the metal, began to devour a small wheel with enough enthusiasm to sound even outside of the fridge. Adrien opened the door, to see that Plagg had finished off the wheel quite quickly, staring up at him with a satisfied little grin. 

"Why are you so fixated on cheese?"

Defensive, Plagg scoffed, and flew up in the air right in front of Adrien's face, crossing his arms. He whispered loudly in an accusatory tone, "Why are you so fixated on Ladybug!"

Adrien rolled his eyes, turned, and walked over to his bed, Plagg following close behind. "She's the perfect girl, and-"

Plagg nearly shouted, "Oh for the love of- Adrien!" He flew before Adrien's face again, nearly pressed against his nose, glaring straight into the boy's eyes. "There's a girl right there! Literally right there! Are you really this dense that you can't see what's in front of your face?"

Adrien grabbed the nape of the Kwami's neck with his fingers, and plucked him out of the air, out of the way, just as one might a misbehaving kitten. "She's just a friend." He sat on the edge of the bed, slipping off his shoes.

"If you say that one more time I will cataclysm your face."

"I'm serious!"

"So am I!" The kwami let out a brief belch, and continued. "I don't see you going for a moonlit conversation with Nino, or Chloe, or-"

"It was only a sunset."

Plagg let out a wail of desperation. "That's even more romantic!"

Adrien chuckled, and laid back on the bed, looking out at the cityscape through the windows. "Not any more romantic than this, I think."

A thousand swears and curses in a thousand dead languages raced through Plagg's mind, as he marveled at the obliviousness of this kid. "Well, if Ladybug wasn't in the picture-"

Adrien sat up. "What?"

"Well, what would you think of her then? Marinette, you know, the one you have intimate chats with, both with the mask off and on."

Adrien frowned. "Well, Marinette..." He leaned back against his headrest, and gazed out at the sky. "She's wonderful, yeah. But she doesn't like me like-" Plagg glared at Adrien, and the boy stopped in the middle of his sentence, before continuing. "I do feel like I can talk to her about any- well, almost anything. And she's talented, and she's sweet, and she's very..." His words fell away with a smile.

"She's cute, you can say she's cute, cut the crap for once." Plagg muttered, though Adrien ignored him.

"She's a very good friend. But..." He trailed off again. 

Exasperated, Plagg spoke in a deadpan voice. "But she's not Ladybug. Adrien-" His tone turned more excited- "You are in love with someone who doesn't exist! You have this idealized image of a girl in your head, and you forget that there is a real person with real flaws and real realness behind that mask! For once, will you-"

"Shut up, Plagg." Adrien's tone changed, alert, and low. "Turn around."

Plagg turned slowly, to look outside at the sprawl of Paris. Where there should have been stone, concrete, and brick, now there were the tendrils of vines, slowly creeping up the walls of buildings across the city. Near the mansion, the vines were sparse, only ropes with the occasional cluster of leaves, but further away, he saw the root of the phenomena; the hotel. There, there seemed to be a garden of all kinds of plants, flowering up and down the walls and windows, some petals so large he could distinguish them from afar. Atop the hotel, movement, although it could not be easily distinguished from the colors in the darkness. 

Adrien jumped up, and held out his hand, looking at his ring. Plagg immediately spoke up, "No! Adrien, don't do this, we need to stay put. This could be another trap! You can't risk-"

"I have to help Ladybug defeat the akuma. Claws out."

* * *

 

Chloe woke to the sensation of rain. Little droplets fell across her skin, as she had kicked off her covers in her sleep. The rain was cool, and hard- and, as it turned out, not rain at all, but shards of glass from her broken window pane. Through the remains of the shattered window, she saw what could only be described as a beast, yet crafted of woven branches and vines, resembling a lizard if its scales were instead formed of leaves and flower petals. A limb came through the hole, snatching Chloe, and pulling her close, wrapping its branches around her tightly, as though forming a cage over her torso. She screamed, as it yanked her outside of the hotel's safe walls, dangling her above the street.

Below, she saw Sabrina, kneeling on the sidewalk, staring up at them. She could not make out the expression on Sabrina's face, but she felt a pang in her heart, knowing that this somehow involved the poor girl. Suddenly, the beast whisked her away, climbing up to the roof of the building, and Sabrina left her field of vision. She looked upwards, trying to get her bearings. 

As they reached the rooftop, they came face to face with Ladybug and Chat Noir. Both poised and ready to fight, staff and yo-yo out, they did not appear to be surprised in the slightest.

"Ladybug! Help me! This monster-" She let out a shriek, as the monster flung her upwards, out of reach of the three. Looking around frantically, searching for Pollen, she realized that she could not save herself through transformation. As she fell, she watched the scene unfold. 

Chat lunged towards the beast, extending his staff into its organic body, and ripping it apart with one stroke. The beast mended itself, tying together its branches as though it were not even fazed by the disturbance, as a flurry of vines hurtled towards Chat. He jumped away, just in time to avoid the trap. Chloe fell further, and the rooftop faded from view, just as Ladybug ran to the edge of the building. Without hesitation, she jumped after Chloe, flinging her yo-yo upwards to catch herself on the edge of the building. Chloe looked down, and her stomach lurched. Below, Sabrina had begun to scale the walls, climbing the vines like some twisted version of Jack and the Beanstalk, eyes unblinking as if in a trance.

Ladybug's arms caught Chloe, lurching her body in the air, as Ladybug pulled her close. They fell at a slower pace. Chloe staring down at Sabrina, as they neared the girl. She glanced upwards, to see the body of the beast, quickly approaching from above. 

Ladybug spoke out, her voice tired and more than a little angry. "What did you do this time, Chloe?"

"Nothing!" Chloe shook her head, still staring up at the beast. "I was asleep, and then it attacked me!"

"You really did nothing?"

"I swear! I think it affected my- Sabrina! Please make sure she's okay."

Wary, Ladybug slowed their descent, just when they reached Sabrina. The girl's eyes were wide, but not in a trance, rather, in fear, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Ladybug, I don't know what's happening! I heard a voice, and then, this... thing appeared! I'm so sorry, Chloe!"

Chloe clung tight to Ladybug, who nodded to Sabrina. "It's Mayura." Chloe gasped, and looked up at the monster, getting closer and closer every moment. Ladybug continued. "You two need to get to safety."

* * *

 

The sentimonster flung itself downward, towards the retreating form of Chloe Bourgeouis. With one thought coursing through its being, one purpose filling its mind, a singular desire, it must have Chloe. It must have her, and keep her away from the world. 

Ladybug put herself in its way, blocking its path with her yo-yo, spun as a shield in circles. "You will not harm Chloe Bourgeois, Mayura! Let go of this beast, and let-"

The sentimonster lunged at Ladybug, and she jumped above it, swinging her yo-yo downwards as she did, wrapping it around the trunk of a tree, to pull herself away. Whirling around, the sentimonster sent a flurry of flowers towards her, writing hideously, trying to latch themselves on her. She cut them away with swings from her yo-yo, fighting off burst after burst of lovely attacks, realizing slowly that its plants grew far faster than she could trim them. She knew she could not battle a creature that could regenerate without a plan, or at least without her usual advantage. 

Ladubug moved to escape, feinting to the right, trying to fling her yo-yo far in the opposite direction. To her shock, the sentimonster found that opening to attack, and thrust a thick branch at her, knocking her into a car, crushing its frame completely. She cried out, as a twinge of pain radiated out from her hip. The sentimonster approached, as she scrambled to stand, suddenly all too aware that she did not have time to call upon her lucky charm.

* * *

 

Sabrina slowed to a walk, her breath uneven, and short, as they found a hiding place in the alley. "Chloe... wait..."

"We can't wait, we need to find Chat Noir, and help!" Chloe turned, and saw Sabrina, leaning against the brick wall. She lowered her voice, and whispered, "Sabrina? Are you all-"

Sabrina collapsed on the pavement, and Chloe raced over to help. She seemed fine, if a bit warm, as though she were asleep- except for her eyes, which opened wide, glazed over. In a panic, Chloe looked around, hopelessly wishing that someone would appear, and offer help. Frustrated and wondering where on Earth Pollen had vanished to, she shouted, "Chat Noir!"

She looked upwards, knowing that in a perfect world, he would land in the alleyway, just at that very moment. But alas, the story did not follow such a predictable path, as the rooftop above appeared silent, save for the flowers bursting into bloom despite the night. The cat remained unseen, nowhere to be found, as unhelpful as ever. Pollen, too, had disappeared, off to who knew where, likely fascinated by the flowers. 

Chloe squatted by Sabrina, and lifted the unconscious girl up, grabbing her torso just beneath her arms. She pulled Sabrina over her shoulder, and bent again, hoisting the girl completely, to carry her effectively. The weight on her shoulder felt tremendous, but she trudged forward. One step forward, and she felt a sharp pain in her foot. She looked down, and it took a moment to register that, in only her pajamas, she was not wearing shoes, or anything to protect the soles of her feet from the broken glass on the ground.

The kitchen door leading to the alley, for easy access to the dumpster, stood only meters away. She dragged herself over to it, ignoring her foot, and with her free hand, tried the knob. It was locked, if only for the sake of being another hassle. Chloe pressed her unused shoulder against the door, to no avail, and in frustration, stepped back, and kicked the door, driving her bare heel into the space just by the lock. It swung open, albeit with splinters scattered below. She moved forward. 

Not a single light shone in the darkness of the kitchen, though Chloe could make out the shapes of the more reflective surfaces. The floor was sticky, and wet, or perhaps it was just her feet- either way, she grew more annoyed by the minute, as she slowly worked her way out of the kitchens. The foyer, the entrance hall, as well, was dark. She surmised that the creature must have somehow corrupted the power lines, although it took a minute longer to connect a lack of electricity to the uselessness of an elevator. 

She had never counted the steps on the stairs before, but she found herself saying the numbers to herself as she climbed, a mantra of gaining fatigue and mounting annoyance. Her footsteps echoed through the narrow stairwell, reverberating in her head. She winced every now and again, whenever the shard of glass stuck in her foot was pushed in further by an ill timed, ill placed movement.

Eventually, she found the door to the rooftop. The exhaustion overwhelmed her, as she reached out with her free hand to try the door. Naturally, it too was locked, although this one was crafted of metal, rather than wood, meaning it would be nigh impossible to kick open herself. Nevertheless, she kicked.

Her foot landed in empty air, and she fell forward, as the door swung open. Chat Noir shrugged off the remains of now shredded vines and branches, which had no doubt held him temporarily restrained while Chloe had waited for his aid. He caught Chloe before she fell, and helped her lay Sabrina down on the ground, propping her head up on some stray branches. 

"What happened to her?"

Chloe scoffed. "What does it look like? It's got to be Mayura, obviously, and she can't take the emotional drain of the sentimonster."

"Sentimonster?" Chat Noir peered over the edge of the rooftop, and watched as Ladybug fended off the creature below. "What does it want?"

"Me." Chat Noir rolled his eyes. "Not like that! I was being nice, and apparently, even that is cause for an attack now!"

"Well, you stay here with her, I've got to go help my lady." Chat turned, and started walking off.

"Chat Noir, wait!" Chloe took a step, but the shard of glass in her foot made her cry out in pain. "Let me find my kwami, she's got to be here somewhere. I can help!"

"Not with a sentimonster, you can't. There's only one way to destroy one of those." And with that, he raced to the edge of the rooftop, and dove off of the edge.

Chloe knelt by Sabrina, careful not to put any pressure on her injured foot, and stroked the girl's hair. Looking out at the sky, she watched the stars twinkling above, and admired the little sliver of moonlight that barely lit the night. 

* * *

 

Chat Noir fell, with direction, and purpose. Below, he watched the giant beast of flowers and lust greedily tug on Ladybug's yo-yo, sending her flying towards him. Extending his staff to the ground, he slowed his descent, and caught her, wrapping his arm around her tight, before she could crash into the brick walls of the building. They reached the ground, and he tucked away his staff with his free hand.

"You can let go, now." She muttered, into his shoulder.

"Right." He let out a half chuckle, and let her go, and watched as she dusted off her torso, which was splattered with dirt form the sentimonster.

"I can't destroy it. It keeps regenerating, but with my lucky charm-" Before she could finish the sentence, she was knocked back, by another extruded branch from the beast. Chat jumped out of the way, as Ladybug crashed into a pallet of bushes behind them. She groggily stood, a rough image of her splattered person remaining on the leaves, like some cartoon cutout from a ridiculous show from the early 90's.

"I've gotta say one thing about this beast, though!" Chat Noir grinned, and reared back, a cat about to pouce. "It certainly _leaves_ an impression!"

Ladybug groaned, a little smile coming to her face. That smile disappeared quickly, as the sentimonster raced forward, tackling her to the ground. It pinned her with its claws of thorns, and began to wrap a vine tightly around her neck, as she squirmed, exhausted.

Chat Noir smiled, as the beast had its back turned to him. Without further hesitation, he leaped forward, towards the sentimonster. It heard him take off, and retreated, but not fast enough, as he shouted, "Cataclysm!"

The moment his finger touched the sentimonster, it began to disintegrate, falling away to dust, which softly disappeared into the night air. The plants taking over the buildings of Paris ceased their spread, gradually slipping away into nothingness as well. He landed on the sidewalk, and for a brief moment, wished that the colors of akumas and sentimonsters could light up the aesthetics of Paris without the accompaniment of a villain.

* * *

 

Ladybug watched as Chat's cataclysm destroyed the sentimonster, just above her. She blinked a few times, before her vision cleared of that magical dust of the destruction, and saw Chat before her, offering a hand. She took it, and pulled herself up, smiling grimly.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Well, that's an interesting way to say thank you." He pouted, and let go of her hand.

"You need to stay safe, and-" She cut herself short, and bit the inside of her cheek. "I need you to stay safe."

"My lady, you know as well as I do that the safety of the people comes first."

She sighed, and shook her head in regret. "And if tonight tells us anything..."

He nodded. "He's upping his game. Mayura... they're going to use her, to full effect."

For a moment, she stayed silent, looking over at him as though she wanted to speak, but could not find the words. He broke that silence again, interjecting, "And you know as well as I do that the only way to destroy the sentimonster-"

"Yeah, I know." She reached back, running her hands through her hair, and stretching her arms above her head. "I can purify the akuma, but you must destroy the monster."

He nodded again, almost righteously, with a sad little smile. "Do you ever wonder what the peacock and the butterfly were meant to do, if they weren't in the hands of...?"

"I think the butterfly was meant to give power to those who had faced major crisis, to fix that crisis, at the very least- a temporary hero to save the day, a regular civilian turned host for good."

"But, why does your miraculous factor in, then?"

She shrugged. "I don't think it's so much a matter of purifying the akuma, removing the spell of it, as it is removing the terrible effects of the crisis at hand. I think their uses have been twisted." 

"The butterfly, though, that one's tricky."

"It could be the same thing?"

"Well, yes, but, why can I destroy it?"

"We know that Mayura can call it back, destroying it herself, but..."

He frowned. "Maybe it's a matter of it being Miraculous, too. That I'm not supposed to destroy it, but I can."

"Like when the bee miraculous-"

"Exactly!" 

They stood there in the night for a minute, pondering the frustration of misused Miraculous. It was Ladybug, this time, who spoke up. Her voice now soft and gentle, a kindly whisper, she said, "Chat... please be safe. I know you want to... I know you feel the same obligation I do, but..."

"My lady." Chat approached her, and placed his hands on her shoulders, and squeezed, smiling. "Mayura, this new enemy, has made it impossible for you to safely work alone. The safest option is to work together."

"I know." She tried to smile, but her expression seemed more pained. "I know, but... This is my... I'm..." She ran out of words, and swallowed the air, wishing she knew another language through which to convey her fears, and her own guilt, that he could not yet know.

"I know." He nodded, and let go. Turning away, he fled into the darkness, disappearing around the corner. She wanted to scream, _But you don't! You don't know, you can't!_ but her voice seemed to freeze at the tip of her tongue. 

She watched the still street, as nothing moved, as Chat Noir vanished from view. Her voice caught in her throat, and she whispered to no one, "I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it convenient how you can see literally everything from Adrien's bedroom window? #forplotssake

**Author's Note:**

> Because of the positive response to this fic, I've decided to actually take it seriously. So long as you guys still want me to, I'll continue writing it. I've planned it out in full now, and it will be a good few chapters. So, let me know if you like it, and if you'd actually like me to keep going.


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